


War Crimes

by loserchic



Series: War Crimes: The Chronicles of Westenra [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Military, Angst, GI Jane AU, M/M, Omega Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 69
Words: 81,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserchic/pseuds/loserchic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a fantastical military state, Stiles, an orphaned nobody, street smart omega was rescued as a child by war hero alpha, Commander Derek Hale. Six years later, Stiles still maintains an obsession with taking care of himself and a blatant mistrust of alphas. Stiles becomes the first omega to be accepted into elite training with the Black Wolves, the military's special operations force. Derek has always intended to mate with Stiles and is furious at the idea of him entering training. However, Stiles' guardians only agree to allow Derek to mate with Stiles if he allows Stiles to attempt Black Wolves' training. Derek becomes Stiles' commanding officer and the war between them begins. Also a lot of fraternization. </p><p>(This is roughly based on the Demi Moore movie, GI Jane, and will be just as accurate in terms of military facts. It's likely this story will be highly offensive to anyone well versed in the real military- I'm not trying for accuracy. It's fantasy. You've been warned.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Brief History of Westenra and the Hale Tribe

When Laura Hale thinks about her country, she knows the territory of Westenra is unlike any other country within the modern world. When conflict with the natives rose to such unprecedented levels when the European settlers began to populate the north west part of what is now the continent of North America, the then fledgling governments of what would become the US and Canada physically walled off a large section of their western sea bordering lands by building what would become known as Pandora’s Wall. Within the walled off lands, they released a virus created by Thomas Jefferson which they hoped would eradicate the warring settlers and natives leaving the land clear and free to be repopulated in a peaceful manner. Things did not go according to plan and instead of killing off the entire population behind Pandora’s Wall, the virus only served to mutate the decedents of the natives and the settlers, enhancing the aggressive, warmongering traits of the physically strongest and largest leaders in the population, and the nurturing, fertile, community building aspects of others. The rest of the population was left with nothing more than an enhanced sense of smell and hearing, thus leading to the creation of the three classes in Westenra: the alphas, the omegas, and the betas. Shortly after rumors of these mutations surfaced to the wider world Westenra turned its back on the rest of the world and refused outside contact until nearly 1910. 

In current Westenra the only government that exists is a complex centralized military structure whose main goal appears to be keeping some semblance of peace within an underdeveloped and violent country. Hunger and mob justice is common within Westenra, there is no industry other than war, no economy other than a loose bartering system, and no social services. Instead, the majority of the population of Westenra has alined itself to one of a large pack-like tribe families which rule Westenra based on sheer physical intimidation and force. There are thirteen well known large tribe families, all with varying power and their own smaller armies. All thirteen of the tribes contribute to the larger, centralized military force, and many of the tribes’ most powerful and influential warrior alphas make up the officer class of the centralized military. Omegas are traded and mated between the tribes in order to increase relations between the families. In such a cruel and barren society, family and bloodline is everything. Without a family chances of survival and a comfortable place in society is severely decreased. The countryside is populated with dangerous rogue groups of betas or alphas who survive through pillaging, theft, and murder. Cannibalism of omegas in particular is not unheard of. Many orphaned omegas and betas are kept in shoddy state-run institutions where they are fed and housed en mass in dismal conditions, while the alphas pledge themselves to one of the lords of the tribes early as a soldier. 

One of the oldest and most powerful tribes of Westenra is the House of Hale, headed by her ladyship Alpha Laura Hale. Laura rules a vast army with an iron fist and is largely considered one of the wisest, most powerful female world leaders despite her young age of 31. In addition to heading the Hale tribe, Laura is seen by the international community as the unofficial representative of Westenra on the world stage. The tribes of Westenra are fiercely traditional and guard their ways closely. Alphas are historically over-protective and territorial, and they are reluctant to have their omegas and betas interact with the rest of the world. Her ladyship Laura Hale has two younger blood siblings, Lord Derek Hale and Lady Cora Hale. Lady Cora Hale is an alpha medic and doctor who resides with Laura and her court within the Hale compound, and alpha Lord Derek is a decorated warrior Master Commander of the elite Black Wolves forces of the Central Military. Derek is known to the forces of the Central Military and the general population as the Dark Prince of Westenra. Following the violent deaths of his parents, the only male child of the Hale tribe took his responsibility to his remaining family seriously and enrolled in Snakehead Military Academy as the mere age of 12. Sources close to the alpha say that something died in Lord Derek along with his parents all those years ago. At 22 Derek’s eyes are keen and observant, but the alpha lacks any sign of humanity or weakness. Derek is a leader, a warrior, and the embodiment of military power. Derek is the strength his tribe needs in a conflict zone such as Westenra, and Laura is grateful for her brother’s prowess, but Laura is also worried. Laura knows things most people do not, and that includes things her brother would rather she didn’t know. Laura knows Derek came up hard at Snakehead. He was at least three years younger than any of the other cadets and had only been allowed to enroll because he’d threatened to run away if she hadn’t made it happen. Derek has fought tooth and nail through the ranks to be not just respected, but feared. Now sometimes Laura looks at Derek when he’s home from missions and wonders if her little brother lost his soul somewhere along the way. And sometimes Laura watches Derek dispatching enemies from afar and sees the coldness in his eyes and thinks he never had one to begin with.


	2. Catch Me: Six Years Earlier

If war is hell, then Stiles knows, even at eleven years-old, that Westenra is war. Stiles hasn’t eaten in two days, but it’s not the longest he’s ever been without food and he’s still moving. The key to being on run is to not stop running. Stiles knows if you stop- they catch you. Maybe not the people you were running from yesterday, maybe not the people you expect, but the minute you slow down, the second you get comfortable, something will get you, and Westenra isn’t exactly known for second chances. And he’s literally running right now. He’s trying not to think about the fact that sooner or later he’ll have to stop. 

Stiles might only be a kid if you look at his age, but Stiles also doesn’t have parents or a pedigree or anyone to speak for him if he tried to get a tribe to take him in. Stiles is a skinny surplus orphan omega who was born on the streets outside of Jackal City and warehoused in a series of state run omega farms from then on. Stiles has been moved around from farm to farm more than the average ‘unfortunate’. Even though he’s just a number to the overworked state omega keepers, he’s never fit in. Stiles is too mouthy for an omega, too ugly as well. Stiles won’t keep quiet like a proper omega, won’t take his lumps and his beatings in exchange for something to eat and a place to sleep with two other omegas on a twin-sized bunk. Stiles know nobody gives really gives a shit about him, but in Westenra it’s illegal for an omega to go rogue without the protection of an alpha mate or a tribe to speak for them, so he gets caught and brought back to a warehouse farm every time. Stiles is eleven and this is his third time on run.

Stiles is getting too old for this shit. This time if the state comes they’re not going to take him alive. Stiles would rather die out here, nameless and starving than rot in an omega farm until he’s auctioned off to some powerful alpha warlord to be part of some bullshit harem or eaten or something. This time they’ll have to put him in the ground if they want to keep him.

Stiles might not be high class or anything but he’s smart and he’s learned from his last two escape attempts. The state farms are well protected. The omega keepers are vigilant- afraid of the stories of rogue parties of starving alphas raiding the farms looking for easy prey. Nobody gets in and nobody gets out. Stiles might be mouthy, but he’s got stamina for an omega and he can be invisible when he wants. Even if you get through the series of guards and watch points and get out of the farm, your scent is going to fuck you over. Strong betas and the average alpha can easily track an omega from scent alone. That’s why omegas almost never go rogue. You walk out in Jackal City as an omega, even under the cover of night, and you’re a sitting duck. A rogue omega’s scent will stand out like a neon light- free ass buffet. Before some of the older kids got sent out to the auctions they taught him how to starve himself thin, how his scent gets weaker and weaker if he has less fat, less mass. The older kids told him how to drink massive amounts of water, to dilute his scent through water, how to run and sweat until he doesn’t smell like anything. It’s impossible to fully mask the scent of an omega. Where as an average human or average beta smells something they smell it as a whole, an alpha can separate odors out individually. Stiles knows he can’t disguise his identity but he can dilute it so much it won’t leave a trail strong enough for anything but the strongest alpha, an officer class alpha to be able to follow, and warriors like that don’t get shitty jobs like tracking down nobody orphans. If worse comes to worse, Stiles wore a pair of his hand-me-down state issued underwear for three days straight and keeps them in a plastic bag with what few things he carries with him. If a strong alpha does catch on to his scent, he can always leave the underwear for the alpha to find and hope the alpha just thinks it’s a false positive.

Getting out of the farm had been child’s play for Stiles and he’s been on the run in Jackal City for two days now. Stiles knows he’ll have to eat soon if he wants to keep going, but he’s not sure where he’ll find food, and the whole thing is risky. Night is the only time it’s safe for Stiles to move, but the sounds of rogue alpha gangs howling and faceless victims screaming is terrifying. Stiles loves his freedom, but being out on his own is a nerve-wracking experience for even the most hardened street kid. 

Forty years ago, Jackal City had been briefly populated by a few of the more powerful tribes. When the Central Military left, they left tall buildings, hospitals, tribe schools, and some communal homes empty and abandoned in the city. Rogue alphas own the city now, and Stiles knows if he’s going to find food he’s most likely going to have to steal it, and it’s most likely going to be in one of the buildings. That’s what’s brought the small omega to the vast dark hospital, trailing the scent of roast rabbit. He’d gotten closer and closer to the tantalizing food smell when three bull alphas surrounded him and had decided he’d make great ground chuck. Stiles had turned tail, but being chased by alphas, while not a new experience for Stiles, was never exactly something you got used to.

All three are wearing various forms of face protection- one has an old gas mask, one in some kind of metal worker’s visor, the other in a beaten motorcycle helmet. The alphas are armed with butane torches and baseball bats, and Stiles can only hope his speed won’t fail him as he dashes through abandoned hallways and ducks around debris. 

“I can smell you, you little bitch!” One of the alphas thunders, pounding after the omega, and the whole thing is like a nightmare come to life. 

“I’m going to burn your pretty little ass up!” The monsters are growling and panting, and Stiles can swear they’re almost on him. “You won’t be so quick with no legs, bitch!”

Stiles bolts down and around, zigging and zagging through old, deteriorating furniture so quickly he doesn’t stop in time and runs straight into the solid, dark mass standing, almost invisible in the shadows at the end of a desolate hallway. Stiles topples back and stares up at the terrifying figure, tall and strong, clothed in all black, light street armor, high grade and sleek. The figure’s face is obscured with a dark polymer helmet, clearly an alpha soldier with the Central Military, then. A higher ranking one than Stiles had ever seen- possibly special ops. Maybe even a Black Wolf. Stiles shrinks back, unsure where to run, what to do. He turns sharply when he hears his pursuers behind him and the three monestrous rogue alphas dart into the hallway, weapons drawn, growling menacingly. 

“There you are, bitch!” One of them chuckles, low and evil. 

Stiles looks up at the officer, panic playing across his face. The officer reaches down with one black hand and grabs Stiles inelegantly by the scruff of his neck, pushing the omega firmly behind him. The officer then lets out some kind of shrill coded whistle and smoothly and efficiently turns to face the oncoming rogues. 

“What the hell is a Black Wolf doing here?” One of the rogues spits, but there isn’t much talk after that, because the soldier is on the three mangy monsters, silent and deadly. 

The Black Wolf snaps the nearest alpha’s neck cleanly, before moving on to the other two. The rogues are armed, and Stiles can’t tell if the soldier has a weapon or not, but he doesn’t seem to need one. The other two rogues are laying dead in the hall before Stiles can process what’s happening in front of his eyes. The soldier turns back to Stiles. The omega notes carefully that the alpha soldier isn’t even winded. 

Stiles realizes that with the rogues out of the way, he’s long overstayed his welcome. He shouldn’t have been gaping at the soldier like some kind of idiot, like this was his first time off the farm- he should have been running. This soldier is from the Central Military. If he catches Stiles he’s going to take him back to the farm and Stiles will probably be locked up in segregation for good then with no chance of escape. Stiles scrambles back up on his feet and takes off, trying to run around the soldier. 

It turns out to be a poorly executed idea on Stiles’ part. The alpha Black Wolf has him under the arms in a second, and Stiles’ feet are no longer touching the floor. Stiles struggles against the impossible strength of the soldier, kicking and punching out, but he only succeeds in hurting his fists. The alpha is soundless as he easily shifts Stiles’ weight and brings him up to hold him on his hip with one arm, as one would a child, and restrain Stiles’ wrists with the other.

“Let me go!” Stiles shouts, still grappling impotently with the soldier.

“What the hell?” 

A voice sounds from the end of the hallway and Stiles looks up to see a squad of Black Wolf soldiers walking towards them, stepping over the dead rogues, all in the same sleek, intimidating black armor of his captor. Some have LED headlamps on and other are carrying some kind of rifle, but all of the soldiers have their masks up, and Stiles can see their faces. 

“We heard your call, Derek.” An alpha steps ahead of the pack, up to Stiles’ captor. “What the hell happened?”

“Three alphas were hunting this omega.” A gruff voice comes from behind the mask. “Rogues.”

“A-huh.” The soldier shoots his colleague a look and then eyes Stiles curiously. “I can’t smell him. You sure he’s not a beta?” 

“Yes.” The voice apparently named Derek answers coldly. “I can smell him. He’s starving but he’s an omega.”

“Oh for shit’s sake!” A another voice, this time female rings out and another soldier joins them. “You’re scaring the poor thing half to death, Derek. Get your mask up, you probably look like a monster to him!” The female Black Wolf peers down at Stiles’ wriggling body. “Who are you?” She asks, not unkindly. “Where’s your family?” 

Stiles stares back at the woman stubbornly. She’s young, younger than Stiles would have expected, and she looks kind, but Stiles knows better than to trust anyone. 

“I got a bar code.” The soldier on the other side of the woman says, lifting up Stiles’ wrist where his hated state bracelet sat locked on his wrist. The alpha was scanning it into some device on his suit. “28709- here we go. Looks like we got an orphan omega from the Section 57 Farm. Reported missing two days ago.” The soldier looks at Stiles with interest. “You survived out here in Jackal City on your own for two days?” 

Stiles glares back. He’s given up trying to get out of the iron grip of the one called Derek and is now hanging loosely in the alpha’s arms. 

“I’ve never heard of an omega making it on run for more than a few hours.” The woman says, and Stiles can’t help but smirk. 

“Looks like he’s got quite the record for such a little guy.” The soldier looking at Stiles digital file whistles lowly. “Eleven years-old, escaped twice before, name- Stiles.” 

Derek looks over at the file with interest, shifting Stiles closer to his body. Stiles huffs unhappily. 

“Well, Farm 57 isn’t far from here.” The soldier reading Stiles’ file says. “We’ll drop him off on the way back.” 

“Don’t take me back!” Stiles blurts this out desperately, breaking his silence. “You can’t take me back there! Just let me go! I won’t be any trouble, I promise. Nobody ever has to know you found me! Just don’t make me go back there! I’ll be fine on my own, I promise.” He struggles in Derek’s arms, shifting and anxious. “I can’t go back to the farms!”

“Boyd,” The female soldier says, addressing the soldier next to Derek. “I’ve read about the omega farms- everyone knows they’re really bad.”

“There’s nowhere else to put an orphaned kid,” Boyd says, earnestly. “I know it isn’t ideal, but what else are we supposed to do with him? We can’t leave him out here. He’ll be dead before sunrise. We have to take him back.”

“I’m not taking him back.” Derek’s emotionless voice sounds in Stiles’ ear and he turns hopefully to look at his captor. 

“Where’s he going to go then?” Boyd asks. “He’s a kid.”

“Lady McCall has a son his age.” The soldier answers stonily. “The McCall tribe owes me a favor. I’m sure they can always add another omega to their household.” 

The female office put her hand of Derek’s arm. “The McCall’s are a good tribe, Derek. At least he’ll have a chance at a life there.”


	3. Birthday Surprise

When Stiles looks back and remembers coming to the McCall compound for the first time a eleven years-old he remembers being scared. He hadn’t know how big of a deal his captor/rescuer had been until they had taken the black armored SUV out of Jackal City and the Black Wolves had began to take off their combat helmets. It turns out Stiles had run right into a training group of soldiers attempting to make it into the special forces team. It was hard to believe that Derek had only been fifteen then, the alpha had already been so tall, so solid, so stoic. In the coming years Stiles would learn that’s just how Lord Hale was. After Derek has walked into the McCall compound and dropped Stiles off in the nurturing care of Lady Melissa McCall, Lord Hale kept coming around occasionally. It was always a big deal in the McCall court when the prince of the Hale tribe, the most powerful tribe in the country, came to visit, but Stiles couldn’t really see it. Derek was always humorless, always intense, often looked worn and fresh from some battleground, and he never stayed long. Stiles hasn’t been homeless for years now. Lady McCall treated him like her own son from day one, but that doesn’t mean Stiles has forgotten anything. As far as he’s concerned, Derek is just another powerful alpha who could throw him out on the street or back into another farm if Stiles made the wrong move. 

Not that Stiles’ life with the McCall tribe hasn’t been good- it’s been better than Stiles could have possibly imagined as a kid growing up in the farms. The future Lord McCall turned out to be a skinny alpha runt who was nearly as awkward-looking as Stiles, himself. At first Stiles thought Scott McCall was pretty stupid- actually, Stiles still thinks that sometimes. It amazed Stiles the way Scott trusted everybody and left his clothes wadded up on the floor like they were worthless. Sometimes Scott lost one of his shoes and wasn’t overly worried about finding it. Stiles has gradually gotten over being extra careful with everything he was given- the McCall’s had been more than generous with him over the years, but he still thought it was weird when Scott sometimes wanted to skip meals like it was no big thing. 

Scott was an affable type and he never had a problem sharing his many birthday and Christmas gifts with Stiles. Being the future leader of a fairly important tribe, Scott was never short of luxuries. He loved to go dirt biking with Stiles, or practice shooting or sparing. Stiles liked to shoot the shit with Scott just fine, but he enjoyed lessons with the young alpha and the alpha’s tutors even more. Stiles loved his lessons. They had been taught some things at the farms, but it was mostly about omega reproductive health and icky things like that- not any of the cool alpha stuff Scott got to learn. Lord and Lady McCall didn’t really seem to have a problem letting Scott’s best friend learn all of the alpha lessons with their son, and Stiles spent the rest of his childhood learning archery, hand to hand combat, and the art of armed conflict. Scott often got bored during lessons, or would rather play outside, but Scott was also naturally an alpha. He was physically stronger and faster than Stiles and the omega had to try twice as hard to keep up with their physical lessons. This didn’t bother Stiles. He’d never quite forgotten what it was like to be hunted down by rogue alphas as a child. Stiles didn’t know when the next time something would come looking to harm him, but he wanted to be ready. 

Stiles loved to train and fight and he took special pride in mastering any sort of combat skills. He found out pretty quickly at court that not every young alpha was as cool as Scott. While Lord and Lady McCall had always been far more loving and supportive of Stiles that he’d ever expected, Stiles was still an orphaned omega without parents or a bloodline pedigree, and he was often treated like one by the court. While Stiles always had fresh, clean clothes to wear, he was always dressed much plainer than the other boys Scott and he hung out with. Stiles wasn’t interested in whatever the omegas under the McCall tribe’s protection did, so he just hung out with Scott’s friends, all of whom were the wealthy alpha sons of prominent members of the tribe. Most of the other alpha boys would pick on Stiles, making fun of his plain clothes or the fact that he had no one. Scott wouldn’t let them do it to Stiles’ face, but he heard them all the same. The bullies only made Stiles work harder at self-defense. Stiles remembers what it was like coming up hard and he had natural, well honed instincts when it came to self-preservation. Soon Stiles was the fastest fighter in court. He was smaller than all the other boys, but he was tenacious and scrappy. Stiles could take a hit from the biggest, baddest alpha boy in court and still get up, kicking and fighting. 

There was kind of an odd thing about Stiles in comparison to his peers. Most of the time he never had anything as nice as the other boys and had to borrow or take turns with whatever new thing Scott had, but there were exceptions to this. Lord Derek Hale never failed to send Stiles packages a few times a year, Stiles assumed in between whatever brutal, heroic alpha mission thing he was doing with the Black Wolves. In the packages were always beautiful things, better things even than the wealthy sons of the courtiers here could get. Fur-trimmed coats made from the finest materials, towels and bed linens soft as kittens’ fur, good winter boots made from strong, glossy animal hides, and one year, when Stiles had turned fifteen Derek had sent him a dirt bike that was the envy of the tribe. Early on, one of the first things Lord Hale had sent Stiles was an intricate gold, ruby, diamond and onyx pin of the Hale crest. Stiles had stared at it in confusion as he had considered himself part of the McCall tribe by then, but Lady McCall had forced Stiles to put it on his jacket and wear it whenever the boys were out anyways. Stiles was sure the other kids made fun of him for that as well. The thing was, Stiles didn’t use most of the gifts Derek sent. They all seemed too nice, too pretty for him to use and he usually just wrapped them up in the paper they came in and locked them in the trunk he kept at the end of his cot. All of Derek’s gifts were things you’d give a fine omega, and none of it really interested Stiles. He figured Lord Hale still felt guilty about scaring the shit out of him all those years ago, and put it out of his mind. 

As Stiles grew older it became increasingly clear to him that no matter how much he wished it were otherwise, he was different from his peers. Stiles was an omega, and the more he matured, the more he trained to make up for his slender build, delicate feet, and small waist. Stiles worked with Scott’s trainers nearly triple what Scott did and he secretly thought maybe if he proved himself to be a good alpha the McCall’s would let him join their army instead of trying to mate him off with someone. No matter how wonderful the McCall’s were, this was Westenra and a full grown adult who didn’t fight or wasn’t mated didn’t eat. Stiles knew the older he got the more of a burden he was on the tribe, and he worried about it constantly.

It was this worry that made him shyly approach tribe leader, alpha Lord McCall one night as the lord was having a glass of mead in his study when Stiles was eight months shy of his seventeenth birthday. 

“Uh, Lord McCall?” He had queried nervously from the door. “Can I talk to you about something please, my lord?”

“Stiles!” Lord McCall’s eyes had lit up good-naturedly. “What can I help you with, my boy?”

“I wanted to talk with you about something.” Stiles had walked in and tried to stand resolutely, shifting his courage to the forefront of his mind. He tried to look strong, like a hearty alpha son of the tribe, ready to do his duty to the people who had taken him in and given him a home.

“Well, let’s hear it.” Lord McCall had looked at him expectantly with a smile. 

“I’m turning seventeen next year,” Stiles had started, keeping his voice steady. “I’ll be an adult.”

“So you will,” Lord McCall had agreed.

“I know that traditionally there will be things I’ll be expected to do when I turn seventeen.” Stiles had said. 

“I suppose so,” Lord McCall hadn’t looked overly concerned. 

“I’ve decided that I’d like to join the army.” Stiles had said in the clearest voice he could muster. 

“Well, I suppose you could do a few years in one of the omega units,” Lord McCall had reasoned. “You always were a man of action, Stiles.”

“No.” Stiles had said, looking Lord McCall in the eye. “I’m eligible age-wise to try to make training camp for the Black Wolves. I know I’m a strong fighter and a good soldier. I know I could do it if they gave me a chance. I’ve worked really hard all these years and Scott’s teachers say I’m proficient. I came here to ask you if you could find a way for me to attend the trials.” 

Lord McCall studied Stiles silently for a moment and then something in his eye brightened. “An omega in the Black Wolves.” He said, almost to no one. “That’s almost unthinkable.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Stiles had agreed respectfully. “But I think if anyone could do it, I could, my lord. I’m not afraid to work hard. I’m not afraid to get dirty.” 

“I know,” Lord McCall noted. “I’ve seen you out there with those alpha boys giving them a run for their money.” He paused and then shot a pointed look at Stiles. “I don’t suppose I need to tell you that if you managed to become a Black Wolf there would be little reason for you to find a mate.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Stiles said, keeping his face carefully blank. 

“I see.” Lord McCall said. “Well, Stiles. I have always admired your tenacity and your courage. I’m not saying it won’t rumple a few feathers, but I will arrange for you to compete secretly in the trials for the Black Wolves with Commander Daily. If he selects you to go through Black Wolves training than I won’t stop you. If he doesn’t than nobody will know.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Stiles had said gratefully. “I won’t let you down.”

Stiles had met with Commander Daily a few weeks later and had shown the officer what kind of fighter and marksmen he was. Months after that he gets a missive saying he’s been selected for training for the Black Wolves at Snakehead Military Academy. Stiles can’t believe it. He’d plotted and planned for this day for nearly two years but part of him had never believed it would truly happen. Stiles is so elated he flies into the breakfast room with an enormous smile on his face, wanted to tell the news to Scott and Lord and Lady McCall. He finds the family and a generous formal breakfast spread at the table, but stops short when he sees they have a guest. Lord Derek Hale is sitting at the table with the family in his dress blues. The alpha stands up when Stiles enters the room, flushed with excitement and Stiles nearly yelps in surprise. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles blurts out before he can stop himself. 

“Stiles!” Lady McCall admonishes him. “Commander Lord Hale is our guest. He’s here to see you on your birthday. Isn’t that lovely?”

“Uh... yeah. Sorry. Thanks.” Stiles swallows, getting the same sort of anxious feeling he always gets around the stony, expressionless alpha. 

“Please sit down before you fall down, Stiles.” Lord McCall laughs. “You look fit to burst.” 

Stiles plops down inelegantly in a chair. “I have news!” He announces proudly. 

“We’re eager to hear it, Stiles.” Lord McCall says. “Darling, get Stiles some tea.” 

“I know you all except for Lord McCall don’t know about this,” Stiles starts, looking at Lady McCall and Scott, but pointedly not at the intimidating alpha seated next to him. “But I just received word from Commander Daily. I’ve been accepted to the Black Wolves special training. I’m to report to Snakehead in a month.” 

A clamor rose up from the table, but the most prominent noise was Lord Hale dropping his teacup and growling, “Impossible!” 

Stiles turned and looked at the alpha curiously. Lord Hale was an interesting shade of fuchsia Stiles had never quite seen on someone before. He looked... furious. 

“Absolutely not!” Lord Hale says hotly. “That is out of the question.”

“Apparently not.” Stiles says, still staring at the alpha. “Commander Daily put me through a trial and everything. He says I can join up if I make it through Black Wolves’ training like everybody else.”

“Yes, I am aware of the way Black Wolves’ training works- I became a Black Wolf when I was fifteen!” Lord Hale snaps, his eyes flashing ferociously. “And my omega will not be party to that.” 

“What?!” Stiles’ jaw hangs open and all of a sudden he’s not sure he’s been tracking this conversation correctly. 

Nobody else at the table seems particularly surprised, however. 

“Well, you know, Lord Hale,” Lady McCall says, conversationally. “You’re not mated to Stiles yet.” 

“Wait- what?!” Stiles might be shrieking. 

“That hardly means I’m about to neglect his safety and well-being.” Lord Hale counters. “Besides, Stiles is seventeen now. There’s no reason to wait.” 

“Who said anything about mating?” Stiles demands. “Somebody please explain when this conversation became about mating?” 

It’s Scott’s turn to look at Stiles like he’s an idiot. “Dude. Derek has been courting you for like, ever.” 

“Um. No.” Stiles counters as if him saying it aloud will make it true. “No, he has not!” 

“Lord McCall, I am shocked that you would even entertain the idea that Stiles would join the Black Wolves let alone schedule him a trial with Daily.” Lord Hale turns his icy eyes on Lord McCall. 

Lord McCall looks unapologetic. “All I did was let him try, Lord Hale. Daily’s the one who thinks he’s ready, and I don’t think we should take his opinion lightly. He’s been doing this a long time.” 

“Daily is an old fool if he thinks the Black Wolves training is any place for an omega!” Lord Hale snaps. “I sent Stiles here all those years ago so you could keep him safe, not so you could prepare him for the front lines. Lord McCall you of all people know what it’s like out there. How could you want to subject Stiles to that?”

“For one thing, Lord Hale, I am not sending Stiles into open combat. I am allowing him to train with the Black Wolves on the strongest military base in the country in a controlled environment.” Lord McCall says evenly. “And secondly, I think Stiles is far stronger than you give him credit for. I’ve watched him best the alphas for years around the keep, and if Daily thinks he’s ready, that’s good enough for me. You’re a commanding instructor for the Black Wolves, Lord Hale. Stiles needn’t even be out of your sight.” 

“I do not want my unmated omega around a bunch of aggressive, hyped up alphas!” Lord Hale hisses murderously. “You don’t know what it’s like. You’ve never been in the special ops, McCall. I will not have Stiles suffer that.” 

“Well, you’re free to try to talk him out of it,” Lord McCall shrugs. “But omegas in this country are limited, Lord Hale, and I don’t want that for Stiles.” Lord McCall pauses, considering. “I will agree to allow you to mate with my charge so long as you agree to allow him to try training with the Black Wolves. You try to block him from training in any way or use your Hale connections against him, and I’ll never allow you to mate with him.” 

Lord Hale turns white with anger. “You can’t keep me from him!”

“You’ll find I can.” Lord McCall says evenly. “When you left him in my care, he’s been under my roof and part of my tribe for six years now. The other tribes will back me up on this one, Lord Hale. I don’t have to agree to mate any of the omegas under my care to any other tribe.” 

“Fine!” Lord Hale snaps. “I will... consider this.” The last few words come out between clenched teeth, and he turns and storms from the breakfast room. 

Stiles stares open mouthed in his wake. “Do I get a say in this?” He asks.

“Just focus on getting through training, Stiles.” Lord McCall says. “One thing at a time.”


	4. The Babysitter's Club

“Derek Alexander Roland Hale!” Laura calls from inside the antechamber of her sitting room. The lady’s voice isn’t overly loud, but she’s clearly exasperated, and she knows her younger brother can hear her. “Get in here, please! Now!” 

From the corner by the fireplace Lady Cora sits with an Alsatian puppy happily wriggling in her lap. She smirks. “Derek’s in trouble!” 

“Cora!” Laura scolds, rapping her elegant fingers impatiently against her desk. “Your brother is not in trouble... yet. He will be.” She mutters.

“You rang?” Derek walks into Laura’s room crisply with a look that says he’s less than thrilled to be of service. 

Laura eyes him from her seat at the desk. “Derek why do I have papers in front of me right now that say you’re being transferred back to Snakehead Academy to oversee the instruction of this year’s Black Wolf recruits?” 

Derek just stares back and huffs a bit. 

Cora snickers. “I know why!” She offers gleefully.

“Cora!” Laura snaps, not taking her eyes off of Derek. “I want an answer, Derek. You haven’t been an instructor at Snakehead for three years! We need you on the field and you know it. I thought you liked leading missions!”

“Do you also have papers in that mess that say the first omega ever is going to be in this year’s recruits?” Derek asks testily.

Laura frowns at the papers. “Yes.” 

“That’s why.” Derek answers shortly. 

Laura looks back up at her brother. “I’m not sure all the reason for the anxiety, Derek. You of all people know our team of instructors for the Black Wolves are excellent. I’m sure they can handle one omega. This isn’t the dark ages for God’s sake.” 

“Translation: Stiles does not need you to babysit him, Derek.” Cora says. “It’s not sexy. Nobody wants that.”

Derek turns a little pink, thoroughly annoyed that the only two people on the planet that can coax an embarrassing reaction out of him are sitting in front of him now. “I am not trying to babysit him.” He says in the most masculine voice he can manage.

“Good, because you suck at it!” Cora answers. 

“I do not-“ 

“Cora, stop antagonizing your brother.” Laura orders, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Derek, stop being such a creeper. You’re both giving me a migraine headache.” 

“He’s my intended, Laura.” Derek sighs. 

“Does he know that?” Cora asks.

“Yes.” Derek says, jutting his chin out just a bit defensively. “He’s just not... entirely use to the idea yet.” 

“Big shock there.” Cora snorts. “Hey Laura, remember when Derek was trying to buy shoes for Stiles, but the cobbler thought he wanted to wear omega shoes and he made Derek a pair of white kid boots with heels in his size-“

“Cora!” Laura snaps again. She turns back to Derek. “Yes, I got a letter from Lord McCall today. It looks like the contracts are all signed. Although why you agreed to wait until Stiles sees if he can get through training if you’re this cagey about it, I don’t know.”

Derek’s face gets a little pinched. “Lord McCall wouldn’t let Stiles mate with me unless I did.” 

“Really.” Laura’s eyebrows both go up. “Well, that’s surprising. I’m proud of you, Derek.”

“Why?” Derek asks, suspicious. 

“You didn’t burn down their keep and implement scorched earth on their lands when he told you that.” Laura notes brightly.

“I thought about it.” Derek grumbles looking bleak.

“Geez, you look like a serial killer half the time.” Cora rolls her eyes. “It’s no wonder Stiles doesn’t want to tap that.” 

“Derek, I still don’t see this as a reason to drop your original plans with Wolf Pack Six and go back to oversee Stiles. The instructors there are perfectly competent. Is nine months really that long to wait?” Laura asks. 

“You haven’t been through BW training, Laura.” Derek sighs. “It was never designed for an omega. The whole culture of the Black Wolves is alpha-centric. The other recruits will rip him apart. They will never accept an omega in their ranks.”

“Well, perhaps it’s time for the special ops to change, then.” Laura offers. 

“Perhaps.” Derek says. “But not now and not with my omega.” 

“Derek don’t act like you’re the only one who cares about Stiles.” Laura says. “I’ve known him for a long time. I’ve watched him grow up from afar. I don’t want him hurt anymore than you do. But I also believe in Stiles. You forget Stiles isn’t the pampered son of two officers, only raised under tribal protection. I remember the little omega you brought in from Jackal City. The one who wasn’t afraid of the state, or alpha rogues, or you.” She reaches out and takes Derek’s hand. “If not now- when? If not Stiles- who?” 

“You don’t understand.” Is all Derek will say.

“Perhaps not.” Laura frowns. “Well, I’m not going to stop you, even if I think it’s a terrible idea. However, if you insist on taking on the Master Chief instructor role, I’m sending Commander Boyd down with you.” 

“That old busy body.” Derek mutters darkly. 

“He’s a good man and a great deal more reasonable than you.” Laura says. “Either you agree to go down with him or I swear to you right now that I’ll ship you off to Guam before you can so much as blink, Derek.” Laura stands up from her desk and walks over to her stony brother. She reaches out to cup his cheek. “It’ll be fine, Derek. You’ll see.” Laura kisses her brother’s cheek and walks out the door with the soft brush of linen. 

Cora grins. “So you’re babysitting Stiles and Boyd’s babysitting you. You should form a club. A babysitter’s club.” 

“I’m glad you find this national security risk so amusing, Cora.” Derek says stiffly. 

“Oh come on, Derek.” Cora says, a sly smile playing on her face. “If Black Wolf training is really as bad as you keep bitching that it is, who says that Stiles is going to get through it? You said that forty percent of the recruits don’t make it through all nine months. Who’s to say Stiles won’t drop out in a week?” She gets up from her perch and reaches out to Derek. “Don’t shelter him while he’s there. Don’t coddle him. That’s what he wants, right? To be treated like the big, bad alphas? To be equal? Well, let him know what it’s like to run with the big dogs. He’ll be out of there in a month tops and you can marry him and make disgustingly cute babies.”

“Cora,” Derek says, sounding unsure.

“If you love him,” Cora says, looking up at her brother earnestly. “You’ll let him suffer. You’ll let him know what it’s really like out there on the front lines. If you love him, you’ll let him hurt where you have control of the situation. Hurt him now so the enemy won’t hurt him later.”


	5. I'll Make a Man Out of You

Forty-nine enormous, muscled alpha recruits and Stiles got off the bus at the beachfront of Snakehead Military Base and Academy with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Three loud, intimidating officers hustled them off the bus bellowing and shouting harsh commands. 

“LINE UP, MAGGOTS!” 

“ROWS OF TEN- STRAIGHT! JESUS- YOU CALL THAT STRAIGHT?!”

“HUSTLE, HUSTLE, HUSTLE! MY GRANDMAMA CAN WALK FASTER THAN THAT, MAGGOT!”

In the chaos, Stiles finds himself a place in the middle of the second to last row, trying to blend in inconspicuously. Through the gaps in the uniformed bodies Stiles can see a large, dark alpha among the other two officers, and recognizes him as Commander Vernon Boyd, one of the Black Wolves who was with Derek the night Stiles had been brought to the McCall’s. Commander Boyd’s voice is rich and rises above the shouting of the other two officers. Stiles has seen Boyd a number of times since he was eleven. Boyd is the eldest son of a prominent officer in Lord Hale’s army, and when the alpha wasn’t on missions with the Black Wolves, he would often be invited high society social functions. Stiles notices Boyd wears a jeweled pin of the Hale crest slightly different than the one Derek gave him all those years ago. 

“ATTENTION!”

The recruits still and stiffen, upright, eyes unfocused, stare blank, fifty chests out, fifty muscled abdomens sucked in tight, heels together, toes apart. The three officers, including Boyd, stand at attention facing the recruits, the hot afternoon sun beating down on everyone like the drums of war. 

Boyd opens his mouth and calls, “Attention! Commander Master Chief Petty Officer Hale!” 

Out steps the silent, imposing figure of Stiles’ apparent husband-to-be, tall and muscled in the stark sunlight. Shades covering his eyes, his mouth grim, Derek looks like a menacing statue of a sun god come to life. Stiles has never been less thrilled to see anyone before and that includes all the times he used to get beaten up as a kid. Derek steps easily through his officers, looking like a panther in the brush, slick, graceful, and dangerous. He raises his sharp jaw line, scenting the air slightly, silently surveying the new recruits. Derek parks himself a short distance away from the first line of recruits and opens his mouth like a lion about to roar. 

“I am Commander Master Chief Derek Hale. To you, that’s ‘Commander’- not ‘Sir’- that’s far below my pay grade. Not ‘Commander Hale’- that is for my equals and you and I are not equals. After everything I say I want to hear the title, ‘Commander’- is that clear, maggots?” Derek’s voice is cold, methodical, but it turns sharp at the end. 

“YES COMMANDER!” The recruits bark as one. 

“Those of you who are of my tribe can call me your lord as you are accustomed to doing.” Derek continues on icily, his words clipped and cutting. “For the forty-two of you worthless plebs who are not fortunate enough to come from the most powerful tribe in the nation, you will not address me with such familiarity. I am not your lord and you have not earned my respect.” Derek motions towards Boyd and the other two officers. “This is Petty Officer Duncan, Petty Officer Roy, and Commander Petty Officer Boyd. They are the assistant instructors for the BW training and they are your superior officers. You disgusting excuses for soldiers report to them, and they report to me.” Derek is slowly making his way menacingly through the rows, staring down the recruits with a glare of death, inches away from the soldiers’ faces. “Listen up because I’m only going to say this once- here, for you, my word is law. As of now there is nobody who outranks me in your life- not your mama, not your tribe’s chief, not Jesus, himself! You will not eat, breathe, sleep, or shit without my permission! The Central Military has put me in charge of your training and if I say you do not eat or sleep for a week you will not eat or sleep for a week!” Derek has slowly made his way to the back of the recruits and he stops in front of Stiles, his sunglasses covering a grim stare. Derek pushes his face in close, not an inch away from Stiles. “I own you.” The alpha commander hisses. 

Stiles stares back, his face carefully blank, refusing to flinch or move, even as Derek’s breath hits Stiles’ skin. Stiles came up in the farms and it’s going to take a lot more than the threat of starvation to make him flinch. Derek stands there for a long silent moment before moving on in his menacing walk. 

“There are fifty of you worthless, doughy, pathetic little girls in front of me now. Odds are by the end of nine months only 30 of you will be left. Those of you who survive the most rigorous military training on the planet will have earned a place among the most elite warriors of Westenra.” Derek says, stopping before the front of the group again. “I’ve never seen a more disgusting group of recruits in my life, but if any of you have the balls to join the likes of Petty Officers Duncan and Roy and Commander Boyd and I, I can promise that I will turn you into the best warrior you are physically and mentally able to be and you will be able to hold your head up high with dignity knowing you can protect your omegas, your tribe, and our great homeland. Now- do I make myself clear?” 

“YES COMMANDER!”

“Alright then.” Derek drawls, turning to Boyd. “Commander Boyd take these maggots to get suited and booted. Except for Stilinski. I want to see him in my office.”


	6. Blackden

There are worst things than going to speak with your self-styled mate-to-be and Stiles has experienced a lot of them. Still, Stiles can’t quite manage to curtail the shamefully omegian response his body undergoes as he walks into Lord Hale’s office on the far side of Snakehead. Derek is a tribal lord and (for reasons Stiles doesn’t entirely understand, nor wants to understand) a war hero. The Hale tribe, like the other largest, most powerful tribes has a large cabin-like home on the edge of the Snakehead campus, which doubles as sort of a consulate for the tribes. The Hale cabin is call Blackden, and due to Derek’s affinity with the Black Wolves, the cabin sits on the outskirts of the Black Wolves training camp. Derek’s large mahogany office is on the first floor of Blackden, and the commander’s quarters are somewhere on the upper levels. Stiles walks through the massive, intricately carved doors of Derek’s office with a carefully straight back and a sure step. The imposing alpha is sitting behind a large desk waiting.

“You wanted to see me, Commander?” Stiles says in a low, formal tone. He looks Derek straight on like an alpha solider, squashing his strong instincts to look down and away from the dominant presence.

“Did I give you permission to speak, Stiles?” Commander asks coldly.

Stiles answers this with silence and a set jaw. If Lord Hale doesn’t want Stiles to talk to him- well, great. Stiles has nothing to say to this massive pile of marble anyways.

“I am giving you permission to address me as your lord.” The Commander continues. “It is proper that you should do so give the circumstances.”

Stiles has no wish to acknowledge that Lord Hale is anything other than his superior officer, but he doesn’t react, only keeps his face carefully blank.

“As I’m sure you are aware, Stiles, we are in a bit of an unorthodox situation, here.” The Commander stares at him unblinkingly and it irks Stiles just a bit how the officer continues to use his first name despite the obvious formality between them. “I wanted to inform you of the... accommodations being made for you.” The commander says this through clenched teeth, letting Stiles know just how much of a burden his presence is on the program. “You are an omega in an alpha program and you will be expected to perform up to alpha standards. You will participate in all of the alpha training exercises the same way all the other recruits will. Do not expect any special treatment due to your gender. I will not have you crying to any of the other soldiers or officers for exceptions. If you find you cannot complete training and wish to be stationed elsewhere, opportunities I think you will find agreeable will be made available to you.”

Stiles stares carefully ahead, biting back the roiling anger flowing through him. He will not allow Lord Hale’s patronizing words to get to him. Stiles isn’t stupid. He would not have signed up to train with the Black Wolves if he hadn’t had some idea of what he was getting into.

“However, due to your gender, it would be incredibly inappropriate for you to share quarters with the other recruits.” Lord Hale continues, still looking at Stiles intensely. “There has been a room arranged for you connected to the Black Wolves’ training barracks with a separate entrance and separate showers. You are not to enter the alpha barracks at anytime and they are not to enter yours. You are not to be in a room with a door closed at more than a 60 degree angle, unsupervised with an alpha. You are not to address any of the other recruits with familiarity. Snakehead is a primarily alpha base and academy and there are very few omegas present on it, but there are a few omega units stationed here. In the past is has been policy to overlook omega/alpha fraternization in the hopes that good marriages would be fostered here and strengthen relations between the tribes. However, I will not tolerate any fraternization between you and the alphas whatsoever. None. Due to the sensitive nature of the Black Wolves, I cannot have anything or anyone distracting the recruits. If any of the other recruits or officers approach you inappropriately I want you to report it to me immediately.”

Stiles stares back, his face feeling numb with the effort of keeping it expressionless. The humiliation of the whole speech washes over him like a hot, itchy swarm of bees, and he almost grimaces in anger.

Lord Hale pauses, something indescribable passing through his eyes for a moment, but the expression is quickly replaced with his usual hard stare. “I would reiterate that I wish you would reconsider, Stiles, but I know you are set on this.” Derek says, and his voice has taken on a hard edge. “I will not pretend that I believe you or any other omega belongs here or that the Black Wolves should be integrated. Omegas have their places and responsibilities here in Westenra, and we alphas have ours. I find your presence in this program offensive to every sensibility I hold dear. The warriors’ path is a cruel one and an omega should be protected from that. That being said, Lord McCall and Commander Daily have made their positions clear and I will abide by their decision.” Lord Hale pauses again, his lips turning in an ugly sort of frown. “I am your commanding officer here and I expect to be obeyed and treated with all the respect that position is due. I am not your friend here, I am not your boyfriend- I am your instructor and any deeper relationship between us comes second to that.”

Stiles nearly swallows his tongue. The nerve of Lord Hale is a little incredible. It’s the alpha who is so keen to increase their relationship- Stiles would have been perfectly happy continuing to be vague acquaintances, thank you very much. As far as Stiles is concerned the idea of Commander Hale being his friend is laughable, let alone his boyfriend. Stiles has never had a boyfriend, but he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t look like this. And if the commander is upset about Stiles being here-fine. Stiles is upset that Lord Hale assumes they’re engaged. Stiles looks at Lord Hale, all stiff and pompous behind his giant alpha desk with his giant alpha ego and decides right then and there he’s not engaged to this arrogant, loud hardass. And at some point he’ll tell everyone that. If he has to keep that fact to himself for awhile- fine, but Stiles will know and from here on out, Stiles is operating under the assumption that the only consensual way Commander Hale is going to touch him is with a closed fist.

“You have my permission to speak.” The commander says.

Stiles opens his mouth, cautiously editing himself, his voice formal, detached. “I cannot call you my lord, Commander.” He says. “I am a member of the McCall tribe and Lord McCall is the only one who I bow to in that regard.”

Lord Hale’s eyes flash but he acquiesces with a tight voice. “Very well.”

“Permission to resume training with the other recruits, Commander?” Stiles asks stiffly.

Derek stands, looking a surly as ever. “Granted.” He growls. “You Black Wolves’ issue gear has been delivered to you barracks. Petty Officer Duncan can show you to it.”

With his commander’s permission to flee, Stiles turns and has to keep himself from running from the office. He walks evenly instead, trying not to grind his teeth.


	7. The Boyd Intervention

“Well that couldn’t have possibly gone any better.” Boyd walks through as side door into Derek’s office the minute he sees the omega vacate the premises.

Derek stares at him like a cave man. “I don’t understand your sarcasm.”

“I know you don’t.” Boyd says, easing into a chair.

Derek frowns. “Why are you eavesdropping on me and my betrothed?”

“Because Laura told me to not let you shoot yourself in the foot.” Boyd answers. “And she wasn’t kidding. Wow.”

Derek’s frown deepens. “I feel I’ve dispatched my duty towards him sufficiently today.”

“Which would be fine if I didn’t know you were over the ass for the guy.” Boyd smirks, he tilts his face up towards Derek. “Derek, we’re best friends, right?”

Derek scowls at the other officer in response.

“Keep in mind I’m you’re only friend, man, so that makes me the best one you got.”

“I have friends.” Derek mutters a little petulantly.

“You have subordinates.” Boyd corrects.

“You’re my subordinate.” Derek says, looking confused.

“I’m Laura’s subordinate.” Boyd says. “Just like you. Listen, the point is, as your best friend, I feel like I should tell you this- you come off as really unlikeable sometimes. I mean, really.”

Derek just keeps looking confused, the poor, handsome dumb animal. “I fail to see how that has any baring on today.”

“I know you do.” Boyd sighs. “Again- it wouldn’t if I didn’t know you happen to have it bad for your little omega chew toy over there. And I happen to know you want him to come to you willingly.”

Derek nods.

“Which could be an issue,” Boyd says as if he’s talking to a slow child, eyeing Derek across the desk. “if Stiles can’t stand you. If he doesn’t like you.”

Derek looks affronted at this possibility. “So you’re saying you don’t think Stiles likes me?” He asks.

“I’m saying I don’t think Stiles has even thought about whether or not he likes you up until you pulled the whole bullshit Stalin thing today, and now, yes, I don’t think he likes you.” Boyd clarifies.

Derek sits down, all of a sudden looking very tired and a little lost. “Because I come off as... a tyrant?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Boyd says.

“So I come off as strong, right?” Derek asks, looking a little hopeful. “Like a good provider? He already knows I can protect him. I mean, he’s seen me kill stuff.”

“Killing things is not usually part of wooing someone,” Boyd ventures. “But the fact that I even have to explain that to you concerns me.”

“But omegas like to know their alphas are strong.” Derek argues. “I’m the strongest guy out there. Once we’re mated, he’ll never have to worry about anyone hurting him again. I won’t let anyone even look at him wrong.”

“Stiles likes curly fries.” Boyd says, raising an eyebrow at Derek. “Beyond that you know shit about him. And honestly, even when he was a little kid he didn’t seem like the type to worry about people looking at him wrong. I mean, you were looking at him all kinds of wrong just now and he didn’t slap the dumb off your face.”

“I’m his commanding officer.” Derek says.

“Well I don’t think you should be.” Boyd says. “I think you should go back home and let me handle this. I won’t let anything happen to the boy. At the end of it all you can hope that Stiles won’t remember how you’ve behaved and you can go about seducing your mate like a normal human being.”

“I’m not letting him out of my sight.” Derek snaps. “Even with you! Stiles just needs to learn his place, that’s all. When he sees that I’m a strong, powerful warrior he’ll want me. I know he will.”

“Far be it from me to disillusion you.” Boyd mutters.

“If he ever comes to you or Duncan or Roy asking for me, I want you to find me immediately- no matter where I am.” Derek says.

Boyd raises his eyebrows. “You just gave him some bullshit speech about not coddling him. What gives, Derek?”

“You and I both know Black Wolves’s training is not for omegas. Sooner or later he’ll need his alpha.” Derek says.

“Oh man, you are all kinds of delusional.” Boyd mutters. “I will definitely find you should this happen, and I’ll pass on your orders, but I can pretty much guarantee that it will not.”

“It will.” Derek says with confidence. “Stiles needs me. I know it and I’m sure he does too. It’s time for us to be together, Boyd. It’s the way things are.”


	8. The 14th Tribe

“I’m worried about my brother,” Laura had said over video communications four weeks earlier. “I’m sorry, Boyd, but I’m pulling you in from the field.”

“Cleric that, my lady.” Boyd had said, trying not to make a face. “May I ask why, and where I’m going?”

“I’m sure word has reached you by now that Commander Daily has accepted Stiles into the training program with the BW.” Laura had said, looking a bit pinched even through the screen. “Well, Derek has it in his head that he needs to go back to Snakehead and play alpha to that poor omega during training.” 

“Oh God, why?” Boyd had nearly smacked his own head against the screen, all semblance of formality out the window. “We’re doing shit out here on the field- important shit. Why he gotta be like that?” 

“I think it has to do with some misplaced feelings of chivalry.” Laura sighed. “It’s cute, really. Or it would be if it wasn’t a guaranteed plan to make that omega go AWOL and run for the hills once he spends enough time with the ever charming Commander Hale.” Laura grasped her nose between her forefinger and her thumb. “And that cannot happen, Boyd. You hear me? It can’t happen.” 

“I agree that it would be unfortunate, but it’s not like you to micro-manage the omegas, Laura. What’s up?” Boyd frowned. 

“Well, putting aside the fact that Stiles is only thing that makes my brother even remotely happy, there are... complications to this whole situation.” Laura says uneasily. “What I’m about to share with you is highly classified and I do not want this getting out. You understand, commander?”

“Affirmative.” Boyd says, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Alright.” Laura took a breath. “How much do you know about the Dormer tribe?” 

“I think we touched on that in school growing up,” Boyd answered. “The now obsolete fourteenth tribe family?” 

“Correct.” Laura nodded. “You might recall that there were originally fourteen family tribes that emerged after Pandora’s Wall went up- the thirteen we have today and John Dormer’s family. Omegas are and always have been our greatest national treasure in Westenra, but the ugly fact is most of them have very low fertility rates, or are completely infertile. I know we don’t like to talk about it openly here, but a larger and larger number of betas are being mated to alphas because the omegas are dying out. Omegas are sensitive creatures and constant violence and social instability in Westenra are causing them to biologically weed themselves out of the population. The omega farms around the country are filled with omegas who will never bare live children. The chances of an omega being fertile enough to foster healthy offspring, let alone bare healthy omegas who are also fertile is extremely rare.”

“Wow.” Boyd said. “I knew omega fertility was a problem but I didn’t think it was that bad.” 

“It’s a state secret.” Laura said. “If the alphas knew omegas were becoming such a rare commodity the violence would only get worse.” 

“So what does this have to do with the fourteenth tribe?” Boyd asked. 

“Omegas are the foundation of the best in our society.” Laura explained. “The Dormer tribe is the only tribe which was founded by an omega patriarch. Any art or culture we have in Westenra can be traced directly back to the Dormer tribe. John Dormer designed the education system within the tribes, and the mating rites. It was his idea to aline the tribes together through inter-tribal mating. The Dormer bloodline is highly unusual in itself. The Dormer decedents gave birth to an unusual number of prized omegas, all of them healthy, all of them fertile. It’s rumored their blood can be traced back to Queen Anne Boleyn- some say she was the first omega. Dormer omegas are unusually beautiful, tenacious, brave, and increadibly resilient- but they were still omegas and they needed to be protected.”

“Didn’t we amass the Dormer tribe in the early 1900s?” Boyd asked, “I mean, that’s why they aren’t a lone tribe anymore.” 

“Yes,” Laura agreed. “The more valuable omegas the Dormer tribe turned out, the more vulnerable they became and the Hale tribe absorbed the Dormers back in 1908. The Hale family made a sacred oath to protect the Dormer bloodline and I stand by that promise. It remains in the tribal oath vows today. By the time we took in the Dormers, the majority of the Dormer omegas had been killed off in mating wars and the Dormer omega genes were thought to be completely obsolete until recently.” 

“What to do you mean?” Boyd asked, confused. “I’m pretty sure we learned in school the Dormers extinct now. That’s why they’re called The Lost Tribe.” 

“Well, we thought that too.” Laura shrugged. “All the tribes did, but then Derek came back with Stiles six years ago and a number of the tribes’ medical experts began to have another idea. Lady McCall actually was the first to notice Stiles... unusualness. She’s a medic, you know.” Laura explains. “She ran some tests and contacted me immediately. We have reason to believe now that some of the Dormer omegas escaped the bloodshed before the merger of our tribes and the Dormer omega bloodline lives on in Stiles.” 

“That seems... impossible.” Boyd had said, his eyes wide.

“Improbable, but not impossible.” Laura corrects. “And my brother instinctively knew Stiles’ worth when he first saw him all those years ago, that’s why I think he’s so obsessed with that poor boy. I haven’t shared this information with Derek, but I think you need to know it before I send you to Snakehead.” Laura sighed, looking tired but determined. “If the Dormer omegas were to come back it could be a game changer for our society- particularly if they were to reemerge within a tribe as powerful as ours. I need you to ensure that Derek doesn’t completely drive Stiles away with his... personality.” Laura grimaces. “Your walking orders are to make sure both Derek and Stiles make it through BW training, sane, safe, and happy.” 

Boyd had frowned at his leader. “You want me to corral the sun while I’m at it, my lady? How about invent an immortality potion?” Boyd grimaced. “I think I could actually achieve lasting peace in Westenra before I could do what you’re asking.” 

“Don’t be dramatic, Boyd.” Laura sniffed. “Biology is going to do most of the work for you. Derek just needs a little help sometimes. Stay on them and in nine months we can all rest easy.” 

“I’ll do my best, my lady.” Boyd said. “But please don’t have me executed if Derek alphas out in two weeks and Stiles jumps the wall for America.”


	9. Day One: Hangman Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Tough)) 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fQC9t8JKDc

The Central Military Phonetic Alphabet and Signal Codes

A- Asphalt (All clear/threat neutralized)  
B- Bones (Abandon mission and fallback with haste)  
C- Cleric (Yes, Affirmative)  
D- Doomsday (Under fire/ fire ahead)  
E- Ellen (I require help/back up immediately)  
F- Fargo (Communicate with me)  
G- Gameday (Stay the course/proceed as ordered)  
H- Hangman (Omegas/ other vulnerables in target zone)  
I- Ivy (Altering my course)  
J- Jagger (Keep clear/ dangerous cargo)  
K- Klondike (Feral alert)  
L- Lichen (One of my men is missing/unaccounted for)  
M - Mooring (biological/gaseous weapons in area)  
N - Nomad (No, Negative)  
O - Opium (Danger- proceed with invisibility protocol)  
P - Panther (All personnel return to base point/ship)  
Q- Questing (repeat the order/ I didn’t get that)  
R- Rancid (General enemy in the vicinity)  
S- Sawyer (Personnel check)  
T- Templar (Request for launch/ fire)  
U- Urbane (Explosives in area)  
V- Vector (unknown alpha scents/significant threat in vicinity)  
W- Wasteland (I require medical assistance)  
X- Xavier (Stop carrying out your intentions and watch for my signal)  
Y- Yeti (omega related complication)  
Z- Zion (Mission complete, headed back to base point) 

0400-0600 Hours

“HOO-YAH INSTRUCTOR ROY!”

Petty Officer JR Roy of the Argent tribe is the shortest of the BWT instructors, with the jowls and sturdy bow-legs of a pissed off bulldog, and he appears to be suffering from some kind of short man syndrome. The alpha can stand eye to eye with Stiles and he seems to take some kind of personal offense at not having to physically look down at the sole omega recruit. It’s early dawn on Snakehead and the recruits are standing at attention in rows of ten in fatigue shirts, fatigue trousers, and heavy jungle boots. It’s grey and freezing. The wind is ripping through the ranks cruelly and the recruits are not allowed to wear coats. Boyd, Duncan, and Roy are standing in front of the recruits, all wielding with ominous looking hoses. Commander Hale has yet to rear his ugly head this morning. 

“ALL RIGHT LADIES! LISTEN UP!” Instructor Duncan yells. “COMMANDER BOYD HAS SOMETHING TO SAY!”

“The Black Wolves are the strongest line of defense against those who would rip your tribes to pieces, roast your omegas alive, and see your leaders dispersed and dismembered.” Boyd says in a strong, bold voice. “Each one team of two of my Black Wolves is worth a squad of 16 ordinary soldiers. Unlike the ordinary military, we work best in packs of eight to twelve. Therefore, I will now be splitting you up for the remainder of training into companies of ten. Starting with Ellen Company. Instructor Roy- if you please.” 

The squat instructor begins reading off the names of the members of each company and Stiles hears one of the alpha recruits behind him mutter, “I wonder which of us is going to get stuck with the bitch in their company.” 

“I don’t know, man,” another alpha chuckles, “I don’t want a sissy dragging down my team.” 

“Come on,” Jokes another alpha voice. “You’re not telling me you wouldn’t tap that? You see that ass?”

“Oh, I’d give her a ride for alright.” The first alpha answers, laughing. “Wouldn’t let her stay the night or nothing, ass isn’t that fine. But any omega who thinks she belongs out here with the big dogs is really just looking to get fucked good.” 

“HANGMAN COMPANY!” Roy’s voice rings out, loud and abrasive through the alpha’s snide laughter. “MARTIN, SAMSON, WERNER, GROSSMAN, LAHEY, PARRISH, CUTTER, FORD, SMITH, AND STILINSKI!” Roy smirks as the ten recruits including Stiles double-time over to line up together. “Good luck, Hangman Company,” He says to the team, “You’ll be at a disadvantage with only nine real soldiers on your team.” 

A few of the larger male alphas on the team laugh and Instructor Roy smirks lecherously at Stiles. Stiles stares back icily, keeping his mouth purposefully expressionless. He’s not entirely sure but he thinks Werner and Cutter were two of the knotheads talking about him in the lines. Stiles puts this out of his mind carefully. Putting up with their heckling is nothing compared to being mated to one of those shitkickers for the rest of his life and if this is what he has to do to avoid that- fine. 

“ALRIGHT MAGGOTS. NOW THAT YOU’RE SORTED, ATTENTION!” Duncan yells this and immediately all fifty of the recruits are toes out, heels in. 

Commander Hale appears, seemingly from nowhere, looking alert and poised to kill something despite the early hour. His predator's eyes survey the newly formed companies, seemingly unimpressed. He looks over to Stiles and they spend an uncomfortably long moment locked in eye contract while Stiles desperately fights the urge to flip his commanding officer off with both hands. 

“HOO-YAH COMMANDER!” Stiles yells with the rest of the recruits, greeting Derek and he privately wonders if Martin and Ford can hear the sarcasm in his shout from their places next to him. 

“I don’t know what the hell you all look so happy about!” Commander Hale barks. “You ladies look naive as shit to me and twice as dumb. Out here playing like you’re big warriors! I don’t see warriors when I look at you- I see a bunch of plebs who couldn’t protect their own asses let alone the omegas of Westenra! YOU DISGUST ME!” Lord Hale pounds his fist against a tree loudly and Stiles thinks it’s all rather theatrical. He wonders if the commander buys his own bullshit. 

“Now,” Lord Hale continues, looking serious. “There is no dishonor in quitting this program, not in my book. Those of you who decide this isn’t something you signed up for are free to leave at any time. You will be give other placements within the central military that suit you better. There is no shame in admitting the BW is not for you.” The commander looks over at Stiles. Stiles stares blankly back, doing his best impression of a mannequin, lifeless, devoid of feelings. “Any of you who are ready to leave just have to run up and ring this freedom bell.” Lord Hale puts his arm on a giant metal bell by the beach. “Just give this bell and ring and it’s all over for you. You’ll be given blankets and coffee and a new assignment. Odds are forty percent of you at a bare minimum will be ringing this bell before this is over. And there’s no shame in that.” Commander Hale says. “Do you understand me?”

“YES COMMANDER!”

“Good.” Commander Hale drawls. “Now drop and give me two hundred, you pathetic parasites. If my officers see any of you feeling sorry for yourselves or slacking off they will spray you and it will be cold. Get to work.” 

Stiles drops down immediately with the other recruits and begins pushups at a grueling pace. The smaller, lively alpha next to him looks over and whispers, “The commander keeps staring at you a lot. Do you know him?”

Stiles grimaces a little. That’s a loaded question. “He... uh.” Stiles tries to think of what to say through the strain of the push ups. “He used to visit my tribe once in a while.” 

“I’m Lady Lydia Martin.” The alpha whispers, seemingly not put off at all by the rigorous exercise. “Future chieftess of the Martin tribe. You’re the omega, aren’t you?” She eyes him curiously but without malice. 

“Yes.” Stiles whispers back. “Stilinski, of the McCall tribe.” 

All of a sudden Stiles head is being kicked in, and his face ground into the dirt as a stream of icy water hits him and Lydia. 

“The little bitch is gossiping already, big surprise.” Instructor Roy sneers from above him. “You better move that ass, girl or I’ll find a better use for it.” 

Stiles thinks he hears some of the other alphas of Hangman Company snickers, but he sees Lydia’s large eyes seething up at the instructor as she continues her push ups. Stiles figures as the daughter of a chief she isn’t used to being talked to rudely, but it doesn’t bother him in the same way. Instructor Roy can smirk and mock all he wants. A little mud never hurt Stiles. The omega continues the grueling morning workout, despite constant icy blasts of water from the hoses and abuse from the instructors. Stiles doesn’t look at Commander Hale, even when the alpha comes and screams at Hangman Company, and the alpha never addresses him directly, but Stiles’ can feel Lord Hale’s gaze on him the entire morning, like the cold stare of a falcon in the dive. Stiles notices Instructor Boyd pacing through the ranks looking grim and he thinks he may be imagining it, but Instructor Boyd seems set on keeping the instructors away from Hangman Company, calling out whenever Duncan or Roy gets too close. Stiles just tries to get through every rep, every movement. By 0600 hours all fifty recruits are soaked to the skin. 

“You forgot your bra,” Cutter smirks under his breath at Stiles as the companies head to the mess hall for breakfast. “I can see your tits through that wet shirt, bitch.” 

Stiles ignores him, keeping his eyes forwards and trying not to think about what the frigid morning cold is doing to his chest.


	10. Day One: Hangman Variations

0600 Hours

_"When I go to home_   
_the tribe, they will say_   
_how’d you earn your living?_   
_How’d you earn your pay?_   
_And I'll reply and I won’t be wary_   
_I am a proud Black Wolf mercenary!_

_When I get to mating,_   
_the omegas they will say,_   
_how’d you earn you living?_   
_How’d you earn your pay?_   
_I’ll reply, sitting between ‘em_   
_I earn my living killing for the CM!_

  _When I go a fightin’ the rogues_

_they all will say_

_how’d you earn your living?_

_How'd you earn your pay?_

_And I’ll reply as I pull out my knife_

_get out of my way before I take your life!"_

 

The recruits sang alpha-centric marching cadences while double-timing it to the mess hall. They’d had about all of two minutes to change into fresh fatigues and now were sitting in tables with tin platters of something that smells awful but looked vaguely nutritious. Omegas traditionally have more sensitive pallets than alphas. Alphas have stronger stomach acid than omegas and can process nearly anything, their systems pulling what ever nutritious value there is to be had from anything they eat. Omegas always ate first in the hierarchy of Westenra and they were given the choicest selections from the hunts to keep them healthy, but there would be no deference shown to Stiles here- and that suited Stiles fine. He wasn’t exactly show deference growing up in the farms and he’s positive he’s eaten far worse than whatever the Central Military is feeding their BWT recruits. He sits at the Hangman Company table next to Martin and picks up a fork hesitantly. He sees Martin and some of the other alpha recruits look at him uncomfortably, waiting for him to take a bite. He knows the polite alphas were raised to let the omegas eat first, but everyone seems a little unsure of what to expect in this atmosphere. Cutter, Werner, and Smith all sit down and dig in immediately, not sparing a second glance at Stiles. Stiles raises his fork again hesitantly, sniffing at the meal and he can feel eyes on him. He glances up to see the commander watching him closely from across the mess hall. Stiles frowns and shoves a fork-full of the gruel into his mouth obstinately. He almost spits it back out, but he knows he needs the nutrients and Stiles has never been one to turn down food. He’s learned the hard way about the toll starvation brings.

Instructor Boyd stands next to the table, inspecting them with a shrewd eye. Stiles notices the way he seems to purposely block Stiles from Lord Hale’s view.

“Hangman Company!” Boyd addresses the recruits sharply. “This is your team for the next nine months. Introduce yourselves to the group. Starting with alpha Lehey!”

“Yes, Instructor Boyd!” Lehey chirps, looking at the rest of the table. “Alpha Isaac Lehey of the Hale tribe. I graduated from the Snakehead cadet program this past May. Communications and code-breaking expert.”

“Next.” Boyd orders, nodding at Lehey.

“Lord Alpha Brennan Cutter, Instructor Boyd!” Cutter is large as a linebacker with eyes the same color of swamp water. He reminds Stiles of an overfed bullfrog, strong, cunning, and slimy. “Future chief of the Cutter tribe. Graduated Brigade Commander and First Captain at Snakehead. First in my class for practical program. Expert in strategy and maneuvers, but the omegas know that’s not the only things I’m an expert at.” Cutter winks at Stiles lewdly. Stiles stares back coldly.

“Lord Cutter, do not make me report you to Commander Hale for harassment.” Boyd snaps. “Trust me- you do not have any conception of how much you do not want me to do that. Lady Martin, you’re next!”

“Lady Alpha Lydia Martin- future cheiftess of the Martin tribe.” Martin says, eyeing Cutter disdainfully. “Brigade Commander and First Captain and valedictorian of the academic program at Snakehead. Expert in languages and translation.”

“Omega Stilinski- you’re up.” Boyd says, and everyone turns and stares at him.

Stiles swallows numbly and drops his voice as low as he can. “Omega Stiles Stilinski.” He starts, trying to sound gruff. “McCall tribe. I was bestowed the title of pendekar of silat by Guru Lord Bastian of the McCall tribe this spring. Special training in stealth combat and covert operations.”

“How is it that an omega achieved mastery in silat?” Smith snorts. “Don’t you mean pie making?”

Boyd looks over at Stiles, his face clearly showing he means for Stiles to answer the alpha. Everyone at the table looks interested.

“Guru Lord Bastian is a general in Lord McCall’s army.” Stiles says carefully. “He trained me in combat along with Lord McCall’s son. Silat is the chosen combat discipline of the McCall tribe. Lord McCall wished me to learn so that I could protect myself outside of the compound.”

“There is no need for an omega to protect himself,” Alpha Cutter says disdainfully. “That’s what a mate and tribe is for.”

“I fought many times before I was accepted into a tribe.” Stiles says, keeping his voice cool, aloof. “Guru Lord Bastian only honed my skills. I had to learn to fight on the streets before I ever touched an official ring.”

“You’ve fought alphas then?” Alpha Cutter says, leaning closer, a look of clear disbelief playing on his face.

Stiles can tell the rest of the table doesn’t believe him either. “A few.” He says, purposely shielding the truth.

“Did you win any of your matches against them?” Cutter asks.

Stiles just stares back dully, his voice expressionless. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Watch yourself, Cutter.” Boyd snaps, before turning to the rest of Hangman Company.


	11. Day Four: First Blood

1200-1400 Hours: Physical Evolutions 

“I knew it would be tough to be in the same company as the omega recruit but I didn’t know the instructors would be so... aggressively out for Stilinski.” Stiles hears Lahey muttering to Martin near the alpha locker room as they all gather for hand to hand combat training. “It’s like they want him to fail.” 

“They do want him to fail.” Martin says this with a look on her face like she can’t believe Lahey’s stupidity. “There’s never been an omega in the Black Wolves and I’m sure it makes the higher ups uncomfortable to see such a vulnerable person in this position.” She sighs, still unaware of Stiles’ presence. “I mean, I like to think I’m an open-minded alpha but it’s getting hard to watch him struggle. If Instructor Roy pushes Stiles’s face in the sand one more time I’m afraid I’m going to snap and break that knothead's ankle right there on the field.” 

“I mean, yeah, Instructor Roy and Instructor Duncan are pretty bad, but the other alpha recruits are just as terrible towards him.” Lahey says. “I mean, I’m not really sure an omega should be here either, but he’s still in my company and that means I’m going to help him any way I can.” 

“Cutter and Werner can’t get their minds off their knots.” Martin snorts. “They don’t think Stilinski will last long, so they don’t care about being rude to him. I thought Instructor Boyd was going to explode yesterday when Cutter grabbed Stilinski’s ass. He turned a very weird shade of purple and then began looking around all paranoid and asking where the commander was.”

“He calmed down when he learned Commander Hale was in his office though.” Lahey noted. “I don’t know why. The commander doesn’t seem to respect Stilinski much either. He’s always glaring at him and making weird growling noises.”

“Honestly, I’ve never seen a group of alphas react this way to an omega before,” Martin sighs. “I know the idea of an omega in the BW is new, but I thought we had progressed more as a society than we apparently have. Honestly they’re all acting like a bunch of rogues. Instructor Roy has put Stilinski on the goon squad every single morning for no real reason I can tell. Stilinski has had to run every morning PT with sand all over his fatigues and in his hair. He keeps calling Stiles his ‘sugar cookie’ and Commander Hale just stands there looking like he wants to kill all of us with his eyes.”

Lahey shudders. “Commander Lord Hale scares the shit out of me. I don’t know how Stilinski is doing it. The commander follows Stilinski around like he wants to eat him. We were doing sit-ups with that log the other day and Commander Hale just stood behind Stilinski the entire time glaring at the back of his neck.” 

“They’re all hoping he’ll crack.” Martin says knowingly. “They’re trying to make an example of him. Discourage other omegas from thinking they can be something other than mates. If omegas joined the battlefield the CM alphas and the rogues would enter a large scale conflict of mutually assured destruction.” 

Lahey looks unsure. “I don’t think it’s going to work.” He says quietly. “Stiles looks tired, but I can’t see him giving up. I don’t know much about him, but I think there’s something out there that scares him more than the alphas here.” 

“COME ON LADIES! I DON’T HAVE ALL DAY! I WANT YOU CIRCLED UP ON THE MAT, HANGMAN COMPANY! ARE YOU SOLDIERS OR CHURCH LADIES?! MOVE YOUR ASSES!” Duncan bellows this, and all ten of the recruits in Hangman circle around the mat, Stiles joining his fellow recruits. The four other companies sit behind them, watching the company prepare to spar. Commander Hale stands silently in the back, his bottomless eyes glowing menacingly as he watches his soldiers.

Boyd stands in the middle of the circle looking at the recruits solemnly, his voice deep and penetrating in the room. “If you become a Black Wolf you will come face to face with the enemy. Crazed packs of betas, organized gangs of murderous alphas, lone serial killers, omega slavers, cannibals, abusive mates, armed insurgents- I’ve seen them all. I’ve faced them all. I’ve been outclassed in weight, out numbered; I’ve been unarmed against men with guns. I’m a Black Wolf and I do not accept defeat no matter how big the enemy. No matter what they throw at me, I find a way to win. Think about what the enemy will take from you if you accept defeat. Is there a soldier here who is willing to give up their tribe, their omega, their peace of mind simply because you are not strong enough to find a way to win?” Boyd looks around.

“NO INSTRUCTOR BOYD!”

“I want one on one.” Boyd continues. “No weapons, just you. A weapon can be taken form you easily. You cannot depend on a weapon for victory. Other than that- do what you need to win. Show us what you got.” 

“Who will face the omega?” Roy drawls, low and mocking. The entire room goes silent. Stiles tries not to blush. He feels like grinding his teeth.

“I will face him.” Lahey says, stepping forward. 

“You sure you want to risk hurting a bitch?” Instructor Roy asks, raising an eyebrow.

Lahey flushes but doesn’t step back. “Someone’s got to do it, right?” 

“Good man,” Boyd says clapping Lahey on the back. 

The mat clears and Stiles eyes Lahey up carefully. Lahey is slight for an alpha but he’s still got a few inches and a good fifteen pounds on Stiles. Stiles knows from experience alphas are strong, no matter how small an alpha may look, an alpha will always be stronger than he is. He’s seen Lahey in action. He uses too much energy with superfluous movements- a common alpha flaw. Lhey will also underestimate Stiles- all alphas do the first time he faces them. They don’t hit hard enough, they waste their energy and burn out from the anxiety of facing an omega. Stiles knows he can easily take Lahey and he just wants to get this over with as quickly as he can. 

Stiles and Lahey circle around each other carefully and Stiles can tell he’s nervous, he doesn’t want to hit him. Stiles does the kid a favor and strikes out once, hitting Lahey hard on the ear. The alpha blinks at him in surprise, and immediately the peanut gallery is all whoops and hollers. 

“Get her ass, Lahey!”

“You’re not going to take that from a bitch, are you?”

Stiles feels thoroughly humiliated for both of them, and he just wants out of the ring and every bodies’ eyes off of him. Lahey seems to have woken up a bit more and is coming at him now with empty swings. Stiles guesses the punches have more power behind them, and finds out for sure when Lahey gets a good one in on Stiles’ ribs. Omegas bruise quite easily and Stiles is no exception. He’s sure he won’t look pretty in the morning. He doubles back, breathing through the pain. It stings like hell but he’s taken far worse, and he uses Lahey’s momentary pause of concern to aim a kick high up, Stiles’ leg shooting up, lithe and flexible catching the taller alpha on the shoulder with considerable force. Stiles pivots and trips up Lahey, bringing the alpha down effectively. Stiles pounces quickly. He can hear the other recruits screaming and hollering for Lahey to get up somewhere in the back of his mind, but it’s all white noise and he just wants this to be over. He’s got a knee to Lahey’s chest and gets in two smart punches street-style before Boyd taps them out. Stiles gets up off Lahey quickly and helps the alpha up with a grateful look. The other recruits seem momentarily stunned.

Stiles mutters, “Thanks,” to Lahey and the alpha gives him a lopsided smile. 

“Nice work,” Boyd says to Stiles and Stiles nods, wanting desperately to be out of the spotlight. 

“Well now we know even an omega bitch can whoop a light-weight like Lahey.” Cutter snarls nastily from the side, effectively breaking the silence. “Stilinski would never last against a real man.” 

Boyd turns to Cutter, his eyebrows raised. “You challenging Stilinski, Cutter?”

“Hey,” Cutter says with a cocky smile, “If he wants his ass handed to him, who am I to say no?”

Boyd looks at Stiles. “It’s not a fair fight,” he says. “Stilinski has already had one fight today.”

“It’s not a fair fight because he’s a bitch.” Cutter counters, grinning at Stiles, his bullfrog eyes bulging in his broad head.

“I’ll do it.” Stiles says stonily glaring back at Cutter.

“You don’t have to prove anything, Stilinski.” Boyd says warningly. 

“I know.” Stiles says. “But my teammate asked me to dance. I think it would be rude to refuse.” He steps into the ring.


	12. Day Four: The Devils You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((In a Country Song))
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TSfBHhuU9Y

1200-1400 Hours: Physical Evolutions 

“You think you can take him?” Instructor Boyd whispers to Stiles as he leans in close to the omega under the guise of giving Stiles a towel. 

Stiles' face is nondescript. He shrugs. He honestly doesn’t know. He’s dispatched more than one bully in his days in Lord McCall’s court, but Cutter is big and was raised to be a top notch warrior. On the other hand, Stiles is getting pretty sick of Cutter’s shit and has been looking for an excuse to punch the guy out since he got here, so it’s worth it even if Stiles doesn’t win. 

Stiles steps into the ring with Cutter. He’s positive the alpha is far too egotistical to have the same gentlemanly hang-up about hitting an omega as Lahey, and Cutter has the added bonus of having watched the first fight. Just as Stiles thought, Cutter wastes no time at all. The second Boyd clears them to fight Cutter is pushing off one of his massive feet powerfully, ten times faster than Lahey ever was, and kicks Stiles flat in the chest, sending the omega crashing to the mat. Stiles feels all of his breath being pushed out of him and the pain in his chest is dizzying. He almost smiles- this is more like it. This is the kind of pain Stiles is used to. Cutter drags him up off the mat, one meaty arm around the omega’s neck, no doubt sure that Stiles is already out, that Cutter is just showing off now. He walks Stiles a few feet around the ring, clearly show boating, yelling, “That’s right, bitch!” over the whoops and cheers from the other recruits. 

Stiles thinks the alpha’s ego will eventually kill him someday. Stiles has managed to get his breath back in those few, crucial seconds and he reaches up easily and lands a direct hit hard at the alpha’s windpipe. The enormous alpha lets go of his grasp around Stiles’ neck almost immediately, gasping for breath, his eyes wide with shock. Stiles keeps his fist at Cutter’s throat and he twists his own body back into a fighting stance. Using his right fist as an anchor, Stiles glares at Cutter and shoves the palm of his left hand hard against the alpha’s cheekbone, sending Cutter flying bodily, tumbling over. Cutter isn’t knocked entirely off his feet- the alpha is solid. Stiles put so much force into his last hit he tumbles forwards with the momentum and has to regain his balance. He’s light on his feet, but sending an alpha of that size down isn’t without cost, and Stiles is momentarily disoriented. 

“Bitch!” Cutter hisses and the enormous alpha is up again. One massive hand wrenches Stiles up by his hair, and the alpha throws Stiles brutally down on the mat, watching his light omega body bounce with the impact like a doll’s. Stiles is on the mat now, on his knees and elbows. Cutter comes up behind him hard, trying to grasp him in a headlock again. Stiles knows Cutter keeps thinking he’s down and out. He rallies his strength and flips the heavy alpha over his shoulder, sending the alpha down on his back. Stiles springs up quickly and jumps down against Cutter, sending all of his weight into his elbow. Cutter lets out a hoarse scream and Boyd taps them out. 

Stiles stands up, dripping with sweat and seething. He’s tired of alphas and he hates being dragged around by his hair. He looks around, glaring at the forty-nine other recruits all watching, most of their mouths hanging open. 

“Anyone else?” He snarls, breaking his quiet omega act. “Any of you other knotheads want to go? Anyone else think they can get a piece of this ass?”

There’s a long silence and everyone looks at a loss. Stiles wipes sweat out of his eyes with the back of his hand and then he sees Commander Hale walking towards him, dark hooded eyes fixed on Stiles unblinkingly. Commander Hale is taking off his shirt, throwing it over his massive shoulder, revealing a perfectly muscled chest, solid, like it was carved out of stone. The commander has four inches and about fifty pounds of muscle on Stiles. He stares down at the omega impassively. 

“You and me, Stiles.” He growls out lowly and Stiles suppresses a shiver.

“Derek what the hell-“ Boyd starts, breaking rank.

“No.” Lord Hale silences the other instructor with one hand. “If these recruits are cowed after seeing two fights with a novice, they’ll never learn. Come on, Stiles.” 

Stiles is tired and sweaty and really sick of being in the spotlight, but he’s not about to let the commander think he’s a coward. Stiles steps towards the commander and immediately notes there is a marked difference between the way the alpha commander fights and the way the other recruits fought. There is no excess movement in the commander, no shifting eyes telling Stiles where the alpha plans to strike next, and no self-doubt. This time it’s Stiles who circles around the commander, trying to find a weakness, an opening. The alpha follows him easily, rooted to the center of the ring. Stiles strikes first, flying lightly into the air, trying to land an unnaturally high kick to the alpha’s neck. The commander dodges it easily and deflects Stiles' leg, sending the omega sprawling on his back. Stiles curses in his head, pushing his weight back and snapping forwards quickly, up on his feet again like an acrobat. Now Stiles wastes no time, he pivots lightly where he stands, pushing off into the air on his left leg, trying to leverage his superior speed against the commander, sending another power kick towards the alpha’s head, both of Stiles’ feet off the ground. Not a half-second after Stiles has moved the commander is pivoting in the opposite direction, the alpha’s right leg anchoring him solidly to the mat while his left leg spins a fraction of an inch over Stiles’ kick, connecting with Stiles’ shoulder, and sending the omega flying to the ground. Stiles has taken more than his fair share of hits, even hard ones, and he’s up again, snarling and spitting. He comes at the commander hard, but the alpha is running towards him as well now, and he’s suddenly airborne, leaping up like a lion, a silent, primal predator. The commander reaches out and takes down Stiles in midair, warping him tightly in his massive arms, locked in an iron hold, sending them both rolling to the ground on the mat. 

All in all, it’s really not the most dignified way to go out. Stiles would have honestly preferred getting knocked out cold by a punch to the forehead. Instead, Stiles realizes while he’s falling, cocooned in an annoying cage of Commander Hale’s arms and chest, that the alpha has probably been playing with him, the way a cat plays with its prey, and has manufactured and end to their skirmish that involves Stiles being restrained but not hurt. Commander Hale takes the brunt of their impact on the floor as they land horizontally on the mat, and Stiles feels almost nothing, cushioned by the commander’s muscled chest. He immediately scrambles to get up, but the commander has him under the arms (it feels annoyingly familiar,) and is holding him firmly without any sign of letting go.

“Alright.” Boyd’s voice comes over them, sounding less than impressed. “There you go. How to successfully restrain an omega. Should you ever have to actually restrain an omega on the job or in your personal lives I would suggest that you stop and examine your life choices immediately.” 

“Let me up!” Stiles snarls at the commander, forgetting the differences in their ranks in light of Lord Hale invading his personal space. “You’re all sweaty!”

“So are you.” The alpha notes dryly, standing up but not letting go of Stiles. 

“You stink!” Stiles hisses at the commander. “And you’re going to get your stink all over me!”

The commander looks down at him, eyebrows knitted together. “You don’t like the way I smell?” He asks.

“Less questions, more putting me down!” Stiles snarls, trying to look inconspicuous and failing. “Everyone is looking!”

“It’s because you won’t shut up and quit wiggling.” The commander notes.

“I would shut up and stop wiggling if you put me down!” Stiles argues. 

“Okay, I think you’ve made your point, Commander.” Boyd says, putting a hand nervously on Lord Hale’s arm. “You can put the omega down now.” 

“Okay, well I think we’re done here.” Duncan says a little ackwardly. “Hit the showers!”


	13. Day Eight: Fear

A warrior makes choices fearlessly, but no warrior is without fear. A soldier with nothing to loose is nothing more than a serial killer in a uniform. Derek knows that duty and darkness are one and the same in Westenra. In Derek’s world safety is neither created nor destroyed- it is taken from your enemies by force. Your house cannot sleep peacefully while your enemies live well. It’s an ugly truth Derek learned when his parents were slaughtered by an unusually large insurgency while aiding a settlement of innocent betas in the south of Westenra. One day the tribe had two grown warriors overseeing the day to day lives of the nearly five thousand people who lived under the Hale’s protection, the next Derek was the sole male separating his sisters from possible mutiny and assassination. He’d been eleven years-old. 

He had taken his first kill less than a year later. A rogue alpha drifter had somehow managed to get near one of the omega units at the academy. The wretch had been mad with ravenous hunger, its body unnaturally strong in its twisted determination to survive by any means necessary. Derek had silently snuck up behind it as it stalked a lone omega medic, and it had bled red out of its mouth when Derek had tackled it and strangled it with an unwavering grasp in his bare hands. He had felt no regret, no grief for the loss of his innocence, only a slight relief from his fear. One less crazed monster who could hurt his sisters or his tribe. One threat more naturalized. 

After that Derek had become deadly. He’d met soldiers in the ranks who enjoyed killing- out and out sociopaths. Anti-social personalities, the Americans called freaks like that. He’d fought both with and against sadists- alphas who enjoyed the pain of others, who liked to inflict that pain. These warriors were dangerous, sure. In other countries they executed them or locked them up for the good of the public rather than capitalizing on their remorseless lust for the kill. Derek wasn’t like those alphas, Derek could feel and love and he was a hundred times more dangerous than any of those freaks because of it. 

The Black Wolves are alphas of honor. They absorb the darkness of Westenra, committing sin after sin so their families and loved ones don’t have to. Derek leads a team of killers so his sisters can live free from the stain of death. There is no extreme Derek wouldn’t go to in order to protect what is his, no low he wouldn’t sink to, no number of enemies he wouldn’t murder. Derek would burn the world to the ground to preserve what he loves- he’d do it happily. 

And this is why Stiles cannot stay with the Black Wolves. There is the theory of social equality and gender inclusion, and there is the reality of the death and darkness on the battlefield. Derek could give a shit about the sexual harassment, the double standards, the cat-calling being thrown at Stiles. Well, he cares, but he can handle it. What keeps Derek up at night is knowing that if push came to shit in the field, and an enemy captured his omega, he would sacrifice anything- state secrets, his fellow brother Black Wolves, his tribe, to save Stiles. Any Black Wolf could not stand to watch an omega suffer- Derek sees it in the eyes of the recruits. The idea of Stiles being out on the front lines was a security risk Derek cannot allow. 

Stiles has been at Snakehead for a week now and he shows no sign of giving up. It’s time his mate understand what Derek’s commander is too soft and too old to see. It’s time the other recruits understand the reality as well. After all, duty and darkness are the same thing and there is nothing Derek won’t do. Not when it comes to Stiles.


	14. Day Eight: What's Not Said

1630 Hours: Liberty

“Stilinski, what gives?” Martin is storming into an empty room in the rec hall. 

Stiles looks up from the letter he’s writing to Scott. “Martin,” He hisses. “I’m not supposed to be alone with you. Open the door!”

“No.” Martin says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve been acting weird and you smell weird and this whole thing is weird. And I’m not leaving until you tell me why.”

Stiles eyes the door again, paranoid. “What whole thing?”

“You and the commander.” Martin says, fixing him with a intense stare. “You hate him, don’t you?”

“...No.” Stiles says, lowing his eyes back to his writing. “I don’t hate anyone.”

“You hate him, Stilinski.” Martin repeats, clearly unwilling to let this go. “Just because I’m an alpha doesn’t mean I don’t notice things. I’ve seen the way you look at him. That is not a stare one gives a tribal acquaintance, or a family friend, or whatever bullshit thing you told me about how you two know each other. You don’t have nearly the amount of vitriol in your eyes when you look at Cutter, and he’s been four times the ass to you as the commander.” She looks at Stiles through narrowed eyes. “And I’ve seen the way he looks at you- which is pretty much all the time, but I’m sure you know that. It’s a good thing we have three other instructors because I think the commander would walk into an electric fence rather than take his eyes off you.” 

“That is bullshit.” Stiles says, praying it’s actually bullshit. “Commander Hale is just being hyper-vigilant because I’m the first omega at BWT.” 

“I don’t think that’s it.” Martin says, and it’s not the first time Stiles thinks she’s probably too smart for her own good. “I think it’s something about your scent.” She muses aloud. “You smell different than other omegas... more iron or something.” 

“Stop smelling me!” Stiles hisses, looking around. “I’m pretty sure that counts as fraternization.” 

“You have a lot of rules for an omega here at Snakehead.” Martin says, looking speculative. 

“I’m in BWT.” Stiles says, exasperated. “Of course I have different standards.”

“Interesting theory.” Martin says. “You’d think they’d be trying to mate you off to one of us, though. You get an alpha and you’re out of the high command’s hair. Unless-“ 

“You’re over-thinking this!” Stiles snaps. “The commander is just doing his job- that’s it. Now get out before I get kicked out of the BWT for fraternizing!” 

“I wonder what would happen if I went to Blackden right now and told the commander you seem off...” Martin tilts her head just slightly and Stiles swears she’s the spawn of the devil. 

“Don’t you dare!” Stiles snarls standing up briskly. “I swear to God I will end you. End you.” 

“I will find out what you’re hiding, Stilinski.” Martin says. “I’m very well connected inside of these walls- and outside of them. Laura Hale and I used to play tennis together.” She reaches out with a smile and puts her hand on Stiles’ arm. “I’ll find out what you’re so afraid of and we’ll handle it together. As teammates.” 

“You’re a good friend, Martin.” Stiles says. “And a good soldier. But you can’t help me with this.” He looks down. “There’s nothing for you to help me with.” 

“Oh Stilinski,” Martin sighs. “If you can’t talk to me about this can you at least talk to the commander? I grew up with him, you know. He’s not that bad under all of that... machismo. He’s the one who inspired me to be a Black Wolf, you know? He’s a good man, Stilinski. He cares about helping people, about his responsibilities. I know he comes off as a hardass, but that’s just a military thing. He’s the most honorable man I’ve ever met, and I mean that.” She frowns. “I’m worried about you. And you can talk to him- really.” 

Stiles opens his mouth and takes a breath, looking up into Martin’s large eyes. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He repeats. “We’re all just doing our jobs.”


	15. Day 29: Hell Week Awakens

0200 Hours: Liberty

Derek wakes up on the first day of hell week at 0200 hours with a distinctive ache in his body and a grim expression on his face. His acute alpha sense of smell can detect fresh coffee being brewed in the kitchen of Blackden along with something unexpected. He dresses quickly and heads downstairs into the kitchen. Lady Erica Reyes, the beta daughter of the chief of the Reyes tribe is standing in his kitchen in a soft linen frock, pouring fresh cream into a Hale crest mug of coffee.

“Commander!” She says with a bright smile, her voice warm. “My future lord, it is so good to see you. I made coffee and ham biscuits. Please, eat before you go out for your tough week.”

Derek takes her hand briefly with affection and motions for her to sit before taking a seat across from her at the table. “You did not have to go through this trouble, Lady Erica. The CM keeps us fed just fine. It’s the middle of the night for civilians.”

“The CM keeps you boys nourished but home baking feeds the soul.” The lady smiles graciously. “My future mate tells me you’ve been working entirely too hard again.”

“Boyd over-exaggerates.” Derek huffs. “We do our duty and nothing more. It was not necessary for you to come out to Snakehead. It’s no place for a lady like yourself.”

“I missed my future mate terribly, commander.” Lady Erica says with a sad smile. “Call me a weak beta, but I cannot stand to be apart from him this long.”

“Forgive me,” Derek says, touched at her obvious emotion over his best friend. “You know you are welcome at Blackden anytime.”

“Thank you, commander.” Lady Erica says sincerely. “You have always been so generous. I have always loved Boyd but being betrothed to him is something else entirely. It no longer feels right to be in a den without him. I miss his scent. I find myself panicking when I can no longer smell him on me anymore. Of course if it is in my power to come to him, I had to.” She stops, looking down, flushing. “Listen to me carrying on to you like a silly beta. What you must think of me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Derek assures her, eyeing the lady closely, his mind turning quickly. “May I ask you an intimate question, Lady Erica? I do not wish to offend you.”

Lady Erica laughs lightly. “Commander- Derek, we are old friends. I will be joining your tribe soon. There is nothing you could ask me that would offend me. You’ve always been far too formal for your own good.”

Derek smiles at her a little sadly. “Are you in earnest? Do you really miss Boyd that much?”

Lady Erica looks at him closely. “Of course I do. Vernon is my mate, Derek. Nothing in the world makes me feel safer than his presence.”

“You certainly seek out his company a lot.” Derek says softly.

“That’s what happens when a beta or omega is in love.” Lady Erica smiles. “There is such a strong instinct to seek out your mate, to be sheltered by him. It sounds silly, but I dislike eating meat that he or you has not hunted for me. It doesn’t feel right. Boyd is my alpha and you are his alpha. Even though I am still under the Reyes house, my heart knows I am a Hale now.” She smiles wistfully into her coffee.

“If you lived on base would you live apart from Boyd? Would you sleep somewhere other than Blackden?” Derek asks tentatively.

“Of course not.” Erica laughs. “There is nowhere but Blackden where I would feel safe sleeping on Snakehead. Can you imagine? My mate lives here. Having you here is just an added bonus.”

“Well, I rest easier knowing you’re here as well, and I know Boyd does too. Snakehead is no place for a military spouse.” Derek says softly.

“Derek,” Lady Erica reaches out and touches the alpha’s hand. “You look tired. More so than usual, even. Last time I was at your keep your sisters seemed very anxious about you. I confess Laura and Cora asked me to give them an update after I leave here. Is something troubling you? It’s unlike you to be so melancholy.”

“Derek always looks like the grim fucking reaper to me.” Boyd mutters, walking in dressed in his fatigues. He leans over and kisses Erica on the cheek. “You shouldn’t be up so early, baby.”

“I wasn’t about to send my boys off to Hell Week without breakfast.” Lady Erica says, leaning into her mate’s affection happily.

“See Derek?” Boyd mutters, helping himself to a mug of coffee and refreshing Erica and Derek’s cups. “It pays to not piss the fuck out of your mate.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “We both have a job to do, commander, and I would thank you not to forget it.”

“I’m just saying,” Boyd says. “The devil himself could use pointers from you on how to give somebody hell.”

“Stiles could give him a run for his money.” Derek mutters darkly, staring into his black coffee.

“I look forward to meeting this omega of yours, Derek.” Erica says. “Laura seems to think he’s really something.”

“Yeah, something stubborn.” Boyd snorts. “I’ve never met a soldier who can say, ‘fuck off’ so many ways without opening his mouth.”

“Well you can’t meet him now,” Derek says. “Hopefully soon.”

“Yeah, I’m not letting my mate near Hell Week.” Boyd agrees. “You’d dump my ass if you knew what goes on down there.”

“The Holiday Ball, then.” Erica says brightly. “When you all come home for Christmas. I can’t wait.”

“Yeah,” Boyd agrees. “Let’s assume Stiles hasn’t jumped the wall for the states by then. Or killed Derek in his sleep, whatever. They're a real romantic couple like that.”


	16. Day 29: Hell Week Begins

0300 Hours: It Begins

_“I DON'T WANNA BE NO BETA BERET_

_THEY ONLY PT ONCE A DAY_

_I DON'T WANNA BE NO CM RANGER_

_I WANNA LIVE A LIFE OF DANGER_

_I DON'T WANNA STAY HOME WITH MY TRIBE_

_I WANNA FIGHT AND STAY ALIVE_

_I WANNA BE A BLACK WOLF MERC_

_I WANNA HIT ‘EM WHERE IT HURTS_

_I WANNA KILL ROGUES IN MY SLEEP_

_BLOOD IN MY EYES AND MUD KNEE DEEP_

_I WILL FIGHT FOR MY OWN KIND_

_MATE IN MY BED BUT DEATH ON MY MIND”_

At 1800 hours the night before, the recruits had a muster (took roll) and retired to a series of cots in a line combat tents. The soldiers had packed up their sea-bags in preparation for Hell Week. Stiles was given a lone tent a little a ways from the others, and he had lain down, his mind a mass of worry. Biologically omegas are far more susceptible to everything from the common cold to anxiety attacks. Due to their strong survival instinct unmated omegas often suffer from insomnia and increased sensitivity to noise. BWT recruits are never allowed to wear coats, instead having to weather out the cold and chronic damp in their thin shirts. Stiles’ circulatory system is not as good as his alpha comrades’ and he’s suffered for the cold a good deal more severely. His stomach rumbles unhappily after weeks of BWT rations, with no fresh meat, no fresh produce. His ears ache with the constant barrage of shouting and gunfire. Stiles hasn’t slept deeply since he arrived on base. Stiles can handle hunger, he can handle discomfort- he keeps his eyes on the prize. All the other recruits here can tap out, go home, live their lives, but for Stiles quitting is not an option. Stiles is an orphaned omega with no family to fall back on. All that waits for Stiles outside of this base is a life mated to an alpha he doesn’t know- one who more likely than not will acquire an outside lover after Stiles has birthed out compulsory heirs, and a life of darkness. If Stiles can get through BWT and become the first omega Black Wolf he may gain enough political capital to find a way to keep his freedom and still live within the McCall tribe. Stiles has never in his life sat back and accepted his fate, not when he was a child and certainly not now. Failure was never on the table.

There is a problem that is bothering Stiles on this, the dawn of Hell Week. It’s been four weeks now since he arrived on base, and his body apparently is done shutting up and taking it. Stiles wakes up after two hours of sleep on day 29, clammy with cold sweat. He promptly rolls and vomits what’s left of last night’s rations over the side of the tent. Fuck. Stiles is used to having to self-care from his years in the farms and he recognizes a fever when he feels one. He decides pretty much instantly that this is not happening. This can’t happen right now, so it isn’t. A little sickness is not going to stop him from his goal, from getting his life back. He lays on his cot shivering and gritting his teeth.

A few mindless hours later black figures are roaring into his tent, ripping it open firing blanks with machine guns and all holy hell is breaking loose. Everywhere there are smoke grenades and grenade simulators and instructors in Black Wolves combat gear yelling and screaming and whooping.

“CRAWL YOU WUSSY MOTHERFUCKERS! CRAWL! GET ON YOUR SISSY BELLIES AND FUCKING CRAWL BITCHES! I SAID, GO, YOU DICKS!”

“Oh joy.” Stiles mutters and gets on his stomach, crawling through the haze and fog out of his tent. He catches a terribly familiar scent through all the mass confusion and has the oddest instinct to crawl to it immediately and hide somewhere in it. He almost feels himself turning towards it before he cuts that instinct down at the knees quickly. “Oh no, you don’t” Stiles mutters to himself. Commander Hale is out there, no doubt bellowing obscenities at the recruits like the charming guy he is, but there is no way in hell Stiles is going to crawl over to him now, no matter how sick he feels. Instead Stiles focuses his sharp omega senses in a different direction, towards another safe-smelling scent and follows it blindly until he sees Martin standing up, clear from the chaos, ready to report to duty. He stands up next to her quickly, assuming an attentive pose. Martin looks over at him, and does a double take.

“What the hell happened to you?” She hisses, taking advantage of the fact that the other recruits are still crawling into formation. “You look like hell.”

“How appropriate.” Stiles mutters. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Martin growls. “You don’t smell fine either. You need to report to the infirmary.”

“No.” Stiles snaps and turns his head forward, clearly signaling the end of their conversation.

In a few moments all the recruits were standing at attention and the fog from the grenades had cleared, revealing ten Black Wolves in full combat uniform standing in front of them. Each of the BW soldiers had black combat masks hiding their identities and they look like dark angels of death, uniform and ominous in the night. One of them steps out from the center and something in Stiles knows it is the commander ever before he begins to speak.

“Listen up, fuckheads!” Commander Hale yells. “Welcome to Hell Week. This is where we weed out the warriors from the soldiers. The pain stops anytime you want it to. Just ring the bell and you’re gone. While you’re here we have a few simple rules. Do what you’re told, when you’re told, or you’re history.”

Stiles tires not to shiver. He feels dizzy and nauseous, but he cannot vomit here in front of the instructors. The rules of hell week are simple and he’s very familiar with them. Do what you’re told, when you’re told, or it ends. Every omega lives by those rules every day anyways.


	17. Day 31: SOS

0300 Hours: Hell Week

“Laura!” 

Boyd is whispering in a hushed voice and his eyes are wide and anxious over the video monitor. The whole thing vaguely reminds Laura of a scene from a single camera horror film. 

“Yes?” She says, grimacing at the video communications device, wrapping her silk rope tighter around her body. “Isn’t it Hell Week down there right now, Boyd? Aren’t you supposed to be torturing Westenra’s best and brightest with my stupid brother right now?” 

“We’re about forty-eight hours in, yes.” Boyd says, still looking nervous. “I don’t have to be back on duty with the recruits for four hours. I’m an instructor so I get to sleep. Derek’s with the recruits right now.” 

“‘kay...” Laura yawns. “What’s up then? I sincerely hope this wasn’t a social call. It’s three in the morning.”

“I’m worried about Derek.” Boyd says.

“I’m always worried about Derek.” Laura says, unimpressed. “What is it this time?” 

“Okay, I don’t know how to say this without you blowing this out of proportion too, so I’m just going to say it, but Stiles is sick.” Boyd says.

“I know,” Laura says flatly. “Only a sick person would sign up with the Black Wolves but clarify what you mean.”

“Stiles has like, the flu or something. I don’t know. I’m not really getting close enough to smell him properly. He’s got like a fever and the chills and he’s vomiting up his rations when he thinks nobody is looking.” 

“Are you sure he isn’t just... reacting to Hell Week like a normal person?” Laura asks.

“Laura, counting my own Hell Week, I’ve attended seven of these. No, he’s not reacting like a normal recruit. He’s sick and I don’t know how sick because he won’t let anyone examine him.” Boyd says. 

“Well throw him in the infirmary and be done with it.” Laura sighs.

“I can’t.” Boyd says. “As a Black Wolves recruit he has the right refuse treatment. I think he’s in denial about his condition.” 

“I still don’t see what the problem is.” Laura says. “He’s not dying, Boyd. If Stiles thinks he can handle it, he can probably handle it.” 

“He’s effecting morale in a big way.” Boyd explains.

“Hell Week is all about destroying morale.” Laura counters.

“Not like this.” Boyd says. “Laura, the alpha recruits are not comfortable with an omega distress scent. It feels unnatural to them. It’s been two days of water up to their necks, and mud in their mouths and every time I see Stiles I feel like the kid is about to pass out.” Boyd sighs. “The recruits have had three hours of sleep in the past two days, Laura and it’s starting to get to them. That’s normal. But there is no telling how they’ll react to an omega in this condition. I wouldn’t let a dog I liked near those guys right now.” 

“How’s my brother doing?” Laura asks.

“Not too well.” Boyd says. “And he’s only sane because I won’t let him anywhere near Hangman Company. Every time he heads in that direction, I reroute him. I’ve been running interference on Derek for two days now. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up before he kills me, but I cannot let him get close enough to smell Stiles. He’s this close to snapping and going AWOL and climbing the Empire State building with Stiles like King Kong as it is.” He sighs. “The officers have six hour segments set aside to sleep every twenty-four hours. Derek’s slept maybe two hours in the last two days. He’s manic.” 

“I know it’s not easy, Boyd.” Laura sighs. “But you need to respect the process. If Stiles isn’t ready to give up, he’s not ready to give up. My brother will be fine. You’re both coming home for the ball after Hell Week is over. I’ll check up them both in person then.” 

“Alright, Laura.” Boyd sighs.

“Stay the course.” Laura says. “Keep me updated. You’re doing good work, Boyd.”


	18. Day 31: Whatever You Say

1400 Hours: Physical Evolutions

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek in five hours and twenty-two minutes. He can’t smell the alpha anywhere nearby and this feels very unsafe. Vulnerable. Like being naked in a hailstorm. Pathetic omega. Stiles is almost too tired to judge himself for these overwhelming feelings, but not quite. 

He’d stopped thinking in complete sentences sometime yesterday. Stiles can’t remember what it’s like to be clean. He and the other recruits are covered in mud, smeared all through their hair, down their faces, heavy, caked on their shirts, inside their pants, their socks. Everything Stiles eats or drinks is contaminated by the grainy sludge from his hands and lips. His scalp is sore and deeply bruised from carrying a boat around on his head with the rest of Hangman Company and his body is wracked with uncontrollable tremors. His hands shake whenever he tries to eat or pick up his gun. 

They’re doing this fun game where the instructors have hidden a candy bar somewhere in the sand of a half mile long beach and the recruits have to crawl around in the freezing cold, pounding surf looking for it while the officers scream abuse into their ears. 

“I’M FUCKING HUNGRY!” Roy screams into a bullhorn. “IF I GET MY CANDY IN FIVE FUCKING MINUTES I’LL CONSIDER LETTING YOU MAGGOTS OUT OF THE WATER! I WANT MY CANDY AND I WANT IT NOW! I WILL KEEP YOU OUT ALL FUCKING NIGHT IF I HAVE TO!”

Stiles thinks Roy is a little in love with that bullhorn. He can’t smell Boyd nearby and it’s the first time since Hell Week began that he and Derek are both missing from the scene. Martin has stuck close to Stiles over the last few days, a silent look of grim determination on her pretty face. She mostly communicates in low growls now, baring her teeth at anyone who gets too close to Stiles. She’s little, but she’s a fierce fighter and resilient. Stiles has no doubt that Martin could be deadly if she needed to be. She’s a little ways away from him now, driving into the surf like a vicious duck, looking for the damn candy with a vengeance. 

Stiles is crawling through the surf, digging through the sand, when all of a sudden a boot is slamming down hard on his back, and Stiles feels all of the breath being knocked out of him in one painful jolt. He falls into the frigid water, coughing and sputtering, salt water in his eyes and his nose and down his throat. He looks up and see Instructor Roy leering down at him, his teeth looking unusually large and yellow to Stiles’ fevered mind. 

“You like being on your knees, bitch?” Instructor Roy leers, bending down, entirely too close to Stiles’ face. “Feels right, don’t it?” 

Stiles looks up at the instructor, trying to remember what he’s supposed to be doing. 

“I know your game, bitch.” Roy crouches down next to Stiles, his disgusting jowly face a mere inch away as he hisses into the omega’s ear. “All omegas are greedy sluts, but you’ve taken it to a whole new level, haven’t you? Parading your pretty ass in front of all these high-born alphas. Pretty convenient that there’s no other omegas here. No competition.”

Stiles tires to jerk his head away from the instructor, his lips peeled back in fury, but the instructor reaches out with a meaty fist and grasps Stiles around the throat, holding him in place in a tight grip. 

“How long did you have to suck Daily’s dick for him to let you in the program?” Roy laughs harshly. “I bet you beg real nice for a hard knot. I know your type- farm trash trying to sleep your way to the top. No better than a common street walker.”

Stiles glares at the alpha, gasping for breath, trying to maintain his control. He struggles against the hold, but the alpha is strong as a brick wall. 

“Think you’re being sneaky, don’t you, you little shit?” Roy snarls, his rancid breath hitting Stiles’ face. “Like we don’t all see how you look at the commander. The way you pant after him, like the slut you are.”

Stiles eyes flash and he spits in Instructor Roy’s face. Roy snarls and backhands Stiles hard across the face. The pain is hot and searing and it makes Stiles head spin but it’s nothing he can’t handle. 

“You think Hale would ever look twice at a gutter-slut like you?” Roy laughs nastily. “You do, don’t you? Oh my God, you’re even more of a dumb bitch than I thought. You’re nothing but a ripe sow, Stilinski. Sure Hale might give you a pity fuck out of a misplaced sense of duty. Get you to pop out a few heirs.” The stout alpha lands another vicious kick to Stiles back, sending the omega’s face back into the mud. “But when he’s done with you he’ll kick you out on your ass like yesterday’s trash. Be nice to me, Stilinski, and I might have a place for you when he does.” 

Stiles glares at the ground silently, fuming, his whole body burning with fury. He can’t say anything or do anything to risk getting kicked out of the program. It’s worth it, taking the cold, the sleepless nights, the abuse from knotheads like Roy so long as he can escape the fate of his gender in the end. In the end Stiles will be the one free from alphas forever. 

“Instructor Roy, I’m here to relieve you.” Boyd’s voice calls out over the sound of the cold, crashing waves. 

Roy looks down at Stiles and winks at him. “Think about what I said, bitch.” The alpha says, and walks off to join Boyd.


	19. Day 32: MIA

1600 Hours: Physical Evolutions

Boyd had told Derek he left some paperwork in Derek’s bedroom at Blackden. Once the commander had entered the bedroom, Boyd had locked Derek in his room in for three hours, and then had proceeded to sit outside the door to make sure Derek didn’t break down the door. Boyd was over-reacting per usual. Derek’s fine. His left eye might have started twitching involuntarily sometime yesterday, but Derek is perfectly capable of making reasonable decisions right now. He doesn’t need sleep. Sleep is for the weak. Anyways if he doesn’t watch Stiles something terrible might happen. He can’t really articulate what that terrible thing might be right now, but it could happen.

When Boyd had finally let Derek out (the bastard,) it was 1600 hours and the companies were coming back in from the field. Snakehead has a four mile obstacle course on campus and the companies had been split into squads of five and ordered to run the course together. Derek waits as the teams come in, surly and silent, searching for any sign of the members of Hangman Company and Stiles. It’s mass chaos as the teams clamber to have the fastest times, to not get any marks on their records. Derek looks around with the hooded eyes of a hawk. He sees seven of the remaining eight members of Hangman Company, but Stiles is not among them.

Derek’s eyes flash and he tears through the crowd of muddy, soaking wet recruits to grab Cutter roughly by the shoulder, spinning the recruit around.

“Cutter!” Derek snarls. “Where the hell is Stiles?”

“Stilinski?” Cutter doesn’t look nearly as concerned as Derek thinks the dumbass punk should. “He fell behind about an hour ago. I’m not sure where he ended up.”

“WHAT?!” Derek roars, grabbing Cutter by the shirt and slamming him bodily against a tree.

“We were being timed, Commander!” Cutter stutters. “He was slowing the whole team down.”

“You lost Stilinski?!” Martin shrieks. “I knew I shouldn’t have let him go with your team, you bonehead!”

“YOUR ORDERS WERE TO COMPLETE THE COURSE AS A UNIT!” Derek bellows at Cutter, turning to snarl back at the rest of Hangman Company. All of the other recruits and the officers have stopped talking and everyone is staring at Derek.

“I made a tactical decision to not let the weakest link slow down the team, Commander.” Cutter explains, his face a bit white. “Stilinski is an omega-“

“I DON’T CARE IF STILINSKI IS A FUCKING BALLERINA! YOU DIPSHITS NEED TO LEARN THE IMPORTANCE OF THE WORD ‘MATE’ IN ‘TEAMMATE!’” Derek looks around, his eyes flashing. “Other than Cutter which of you pathetic idiots was on Stiles’ team? I want to know NOW! Front and center or I swear to God I will send your asses back home faster than you can blink!”

Grossman, Werner, and Ford step forward looking uneasy and terrified.

“One of you shit-sacks better start talking right now or I’m going to get violent.” Derek growls, towering over the three recruits. “Where is Stilinski?”

“Derek- calm down!” Boyd ventures over, putting a cautious arm on Derek’s shoulder. “It’s a closed course-“

“FUCK YOU, BOYD!” Derek yells, not taking his eyes off the three recruits. “IF YOU HADN’T LOCKED ME IN MY ROOM THIS NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED, ASSHOLE!”

“Just tell him where you left Stiles.” Boyd says to the recruits, looking tired. “Sometime before Commander PMS kills us all, please.”

“Wait- Boyd locked you in your room?!” Martin says.

“I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!” Derek yells. “WHERE THE HELL IS STILES?”

“I um... I think I last saw him by obstacle eight.” Werner ventures.

“If he’s not there, I’m going to make all of you into hats!” Derek yells, already jogging back towards the woods.


	20. Day 32: Small Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Small))  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3iO_PDA6kvg

1600 Hours: Physical Evolutions 

Derek is tearing through the woods, his legs eating up the distance, all adrenaline and worry. He’s tracking Stiles’ scent, detecting terrible undertones of sweat, fear, and sickness. In the chaos of Hell Week it’s been difficult for Derek to get close to the omega, but out here in the woods, Derek can track the scent easily. The obvious distress signals in it only spur Derek on faster, running through the brush like a jungle cat pursuing prey. Derek tracks Stiles’ scent down to a ditch in the brush. He drops down low, desperately searching for his omega. 

When his eyes finally find what he’s looking for, Derek is horrified. Stiles is nearly invisible in the leaves and mud, without his scent, Derek never would have been able to find the omega. His entire body is covered in sludge and leaves, the dirt and sweat turning his skin a dull grey. Curled in a fetal position, Stiles looks like something already dead, a murder victim dumped in the woods and left to decay. Derek sees with immense relief that the omega’s chest is moving up and down. He’s alive then. 

Derek reaches down and pulls off his coat, wrapping Stiles up and enfolding the icy omega in his arms. Stiles is filthy and soaked to his skin, but he feels so good in Derek’s arms, the way he did when Derek had first held him as a child in Jackal City. Derek feels part of himself sigh in relief, and he can’t help but lower his face to Stiles’ neck, scenting the omega thoroughly. He notices with alarm that Stiles’ ears and lips have taken on a bluish tint. 

Stiles stirs unhappily and opens his eyes. He doesn’t move or struggle away from Derek, but he groans. “Please tell me you’re a hallucination.” 

Derek just gathers Stiles in his arms, pulling the freezing omega to his chest. “You’re in a moderate hypothermic state, Stiles. Need to get you warm, baby.” 

“Dear God,” Stiles mutters, his words slurred and slow. “Hallucination you is just as annoying as real life you.” 

“I need to rewarm you, baby.” Derek murmurs. “You’re going to be just fine. I’m here now.” 

Stiles snuggles into Derek’s chest and the alpha wants to purr in pure happiness. He leans down to kiss his omega’s icy brow. 

“I must be really losing it.” Stiles mutters. “You feel so warm. My stupid brain...”

“It’s okay, Stiles.” Derek murmurs softly. “You’re safe here.”

“I know...” Stiles mumbles, the words thick and clumsy. “I’ve felt safe with you since Jackal City... must be why I’m hallucinating you... haven’t seen you in a while... feel scared when you’re not here...”

“I’m here now,” Derek says, trying to will his own body heat into his omega. “You’re not hallucinating.” He nuzzles Stiles gently, savoring the omega’s scent. “I thought you hated me in Jackal City. You looked so mad at me when I wouldn’t let you go.”

“Was mad...” Stiles agrees. “Big, dumb alpha... but when you picked me up was the first time I ever felt safe in my whole life... dumb brain must be trying to recreate that memory...” 

“I’ve always been here for you.” Derek confesses quietly. “You don’t know what I would do for you, Stiles. I would face down an entire army of rogues and salt the earth with their blood to keep you safe.” 

Stiles snorts, turning his face into Derek’s chest. “...so fucking stupid... even in my hallucinations you’re so fucking stupid... I don’t know why I miss you...”

“I need to get you back to base camp.” Derek says, stroking Stiles hair back. “You think you’re warm enough now for me to move you? You feel any better?”

Stiles stares up at him, his disoriented eyes widening with panic. “No... no...” He says quickly, words still clumsy and half-frozen. “I’m not ready to go back yet... not yet... please don’t go... don’t leave me...” Derek is horrified to see Stiles’ eyes fill with tears. The omega is crying and confused. “I know you’re not real, but don’t go! I don’t want to wake up yet... let me have this a little while longer... just a little...”

“Stiles I’m not going anywhere.” Derek says, pulling the omega closer, unsure of how to comfort the Stiles, but desperately wanting to. “I’m here, shhhhh. It’s going to be okay.” 

Stiles mutters something more, but Derek can’t understand the omega anymore. Stiles eyes have rolled back in his head, now and he seems incoherent again. Derek presses the omega close to his chest, cradling him carefully like Stiles is the most precious thing. He stands up, holding Stiles tightly. 

Derek leans down and whispers into the omega’s ear, “I love you, Stiles.” before taking off back towards camp with his omega in his arms.


	21. Day 32: Alpha One Lands

1700 Hours: Dinner

“Derek Alexander Roland Hale!”

There is only one person on the planet who addresses Derek in that manner, and really- Derek’s not in the mood.

Laura is standing with Boyd and a few other on duty Black Wolves by the beach, looking inconspicuous in a plain linen robe and a dark fur cloak shielding her slender form from the whipping wind. Derek shift Stiles’ unconscious form in his arms, holding the omega closer, and considers his assent towards the party.

“HQ this is Commander Six- I’ve got Commander Nine and the omega recruit within eyesight now. I repeat- the yeti is asphalt.” Boyd is saying into his communication device. “I got a wasteland here on the BWT beach. I repeat, wasteland. Alpha One has landed with her support team. Do not be alarmed.”

Derek walks up to Boyd frowning. “What is she doing here?”

“Boyd called me.” Laura says, trying to get a better look at Stiles. “Is Stiles okay?”

One of the members of Laura’s security detail reaches out towards the omega. “Don’t you touch him!” Derek snarls quickly, his sharp teeth coming out menacingly.

“Anders is a medic, Derek!” Laura sighs, frustrated. “Let him help Stiles.”

Derek growls low and threatening, glaring at the soldiers, holding Stiles tightly against his chest. “Mine!” It’s more of an animal noise than a word.

“Oh for Pete’s sake!” Laura snarls back. “Get over here you perfect idiot.” Laura marches over and growls up at her brother ferociously. “Hand over the omega, Derek. He needs help.”

Derek whines, lowering his face to Stiles’ face, not wanting to let the omega go. Everything inside of Derek telling him not to let his omega out of his arms, not to trust even his older sister. His mind isn’t working normally, instinct completely taking over.

Laura sighs, looking up at Boyd. “I owe you a fruit basket.” She reaches out and manhandles Stiles out of Derek arms. “Come on, Derek. Nobody’s going to hurt him. He just needs help.” She looks down at Stiles critically. “Christ.” She mutters. She hands Derek’s omega over to the medic. “Take him to the infirmary and do a full panel. He needs to get warmed up.”

Derek makes a move to follow the medic, but Laura has a good grasp her brother’s arm and she’s a hell of a lot stronger than she looks.

“You don’t need to be present for that, Derek.” Laura says sternly. “The medical team is more than capable-“

“Like hell I don’t!” Derek interrupts, looking furious. “That’s my omega!”

“If you think I’m going to let you in the infirmary while you’re alpha-ing out like this, you’re even crazier than you look.” Laura argues back. “Settle down! Having you there growling and threatening everybody would only stress out Stiles more!”

“Now do you see why he doesn’t belong here?” Derek exclaims throwing his hands up. “It’s not safe!”

“Moderate hypothermia is not life-threatening, Derek, and not unusual for a BWT recruit.” Laura counters, not giving an inch. “You know as well as I do, most of these recruits are going to get some form of hypothermia before training is through.”

“How can you not see this as a problem-“ Derek starts, his eyes flashing.

“Oh I see a problem!” Laura says. “And it’s you! Stiles is fine- or he would be if you’d stop over-reacting and scaring the shit out of everyone. I’m not taking Stiles out of training, Derek. I have the whole of the international community on my ass about omega rights and having Stiles here is a serious boon to our standing with the other nations.”

“My omega is not a political pawn, Laura!” Derek say, inflamed.

“Stiles is here of his own free will, Derek.” Laura points out. “He’s not mated to you yet, you have no legal say over anything he does, and so long as he wants to be here, he’s staying.” Laura juts her chin out stubbornly. “If Stiles wants to leave, he’s free to do so. But it’s going to be on his terms. I’ve made my decision.”

“You have no conception under God what you’re asking of me!” Derek hisses through a tightly clenched jaw.

“I am asking you to behave in a way befitting a Hale lord and a Black Wolf.” Laura says. “If you try to interfere in any way outside of your duties as an instructor I will ship you off to Guam, Derek. Don’t test me.”

“Fine.” Derek growls, unhappily submitting to his sister. “But after this disaster is through, you will ensure that Stiles and I are mated immediately. I’m not waiting any longer.”

“Agreed.” Laura says. “Boyd call my chopper. I’m ready to leave this hell hole.”


	22. Day 32: An Officer and a Gentleman

1800 Hours: Dinner

Stiles opens his eyes and doesn’t recognize his surroundings, all he knows is he’s no longer cold. There’s something in his mind, just beyond his grasp, some kind of hazy dream about the commander, but Stiles can’t remember anything more than a generalized feeling of panic. He looks around and flat out curses. The infirmary. How he ended up here is a mystery, but Stiles doubts the answer is anything good. He can only pray they won’t give him his walking papers. He turns and sees Cutter sitting quietly next to his bed, still in muddy fatigues.

“Fuck.” Stiles growls out, eyeing the alpha. “Did I die and go to hell?”

“Nah,” Cutter drawls, with a half smile. “I mean, you’re in hell all right, but you ain’t dead.”

“What are you doing here, then?” Stiles asks lowly. “High command send you in to punish me?”

Cutter looks down at his shoes and then back up at Stiles, his face looking softer than Stiles has ever seen it. Stiles stares back coldly.

“No,” Cutter admits. “Nobody sent me here, Stilinski. I came because there’s something that needs doing.” Cutter takes a breath, looking in Stiles eyes. “I want to apologize. I know I’ve been acting like an ass to you since you got here and that’s not who I am.”

“It seemed to come pretty naturally to you.” Stiles notes cooly.

“You have every right to be ticked at me, Stilinski, and I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Cutter says, his voice earnest. “But I want you to know that my folks- my tribe raised me better than to treat an omega the way I’ve treated and not apologize. I haven’t acted like a chief and I haven’t acted like a warrior towards you and I’m sorry.” Cutter is still searching Stiles’ face and his gaze is almost too much for the omega. “I hope you can find it in you trust me enough to be your teammate. I’m going to do my best to treat you the way an omega deserves from here on out.”

Stiles is pushed a little bit off kilter by this admission on Cutter’s part. He can’t remember an alpha ever apologizing to him for anything- even Scott. He keeps his face carefully blank and asks, “How’d I end up here, Cutter?”

Cutter flushes but he looks Stiles in the eye and says, “I made a bad judgment call. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking but I thought we could achieve our given objective if we let you do your own thing. I honestly didn’t think you’d collapse out there, I thought you’d come in with one of the other teams.” He shakes his head in disbelief at himself. “This isn’t an excuse or anything, but your scent, I didn’t think it would effect me as strongly as it does. I’ve never been in active combat with an omega before. When I first saw you I was pissed. I’ve wanted to be a Black Wolf for as long as I can remember. My father was one- it’s expected of me. And here you were, smelling like you do, and looking like you do, and I couldn’t think straight. I took it out on you like a punkass coward.”

“Who brought me back?” Stiles asks, still stuck on uncovering the details of the last few hours.

“The instructors brought you in,” Cutter says. “Boyd and a medic.”

“They sending me home?” Stiles asks gruffly like he has a home to be sent to.

“I won’t let them do that.” Cutter says vehemently. “It’s my fault you ended up here. If I have to I’ll call my dad. But I don’t think that’s even on the table.”

“How do you know?” Stiles asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Your stuff is still out on the beach.” Cutter says. “They usually bag up your stuff and send it to HQ if they’re sending you home.”

Stiles nods, this was true. He swallows, leaning back. “I need to get the fuck out of here.” Stiles mutters.

“I’ll grab you some fatigues.” Cutter offers. “Maybe we can get you back to the BWT before a medic can stop us.”

Stiles looks over. “Who says I want your help?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I know you, Stilinski,” Cutter laughs lowly. “You could’ve told me to go to hell and cussed me out six ways to Sunday if you wanted.” He smiles, broad and slow. “But I’m still here. And you’re still talking to me.”

“Fine.” Stiles says. “Go get me some clothes. I fucking hate hospitals.”


	23. Day 36: Midnight

0000 Hours: Liberty

“Send McDuff.” Derek glares at the screen with his arms crossed. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

“For the tenth time- you are the only person who thinks that your presence is mandatory at Snakehead. Literally everyone else could take or leave it.” Laura has a tension headache. “I am not sending McDuff. Pack Six is your team, not McDuff’s. They trained with you. I’m sending you.” 

“Stiles still isn’t all the way recovered.” Derek looks worried. 

“He’s back in training full time. Hell week is over, and anyways it’s not like I’m sending you off on a long deployment. This will take eight hours, twelve at the most. Go in there, neutralize the target, and then you can come home and resume activity here.” Laura sighs. “Come on, Derek. What’s really bothering you? Things like this never used to phase you.”

“Stiles is just being really... cold.” Derek admits. “He hasn’t asked for me at all.”

“Cold is the boy’s MO.” Laura says. “He’s probably just feeling better.” 

“We’re leaving for the field POW training in a few days.” Derek says. “I just don’t want there to be anything weird between us going into it. It’s the most stressful part of training for the alphas- I don’t even want to think about how an omega could be effected, and I want Stiles to know he can come to me at any time. He doesn’t have to be scared.” 

“You can’t tell him all that after you assassinate someone for me?” Laura asks. “Because I’ve got to say, from where I’m sitting my thing seems like more of a priority.” 

“Alright,” Derek says reluctantly. “I’ll go. Have Boyd order me a chopper.” 

Derek gets up to change into combat gear frowning. He’d thought Stiles and he had a breakthrough in the woods, that Stiles had finally understood how Derek cared for him and was beginning to accept affection like a normal omega. Stiles had felt so right in Derek’s arms, and the omega had asked him to stay. Derek had even been optimistic enough to hope that Stiles would drop his ridiculous stubborn habit of sleeping in the cold, hard barracks and come stay with him in Blackden where Derek could keep him warm and safe. Stiles had gotten out of the infirmary, but he hadn’t come to Derek that night, nor the next. The omega had gone back to all but ignoring him in the field, his eyes hostile and angry. Derek is at a loss as to what he did to deserve the omega pulling such a 180 on him. Derek hates everything about it. It’s unnatural for there to be any kind of distance between him and his mate and Derek is losing his patience. 

Derek walks over to the BWT barracks, his combat helmet under his arm. He opens the door to Stiles’ room and walks in silently. His omega is asleep on the narrow cot, the wool military issue blanket pulled around his ears. Derek can’t help but smile as he see Stiles asleep and peaceful. The alpha leans down and kisses the omega gently on the forehead. 

Stiles bolts up immediately, white and gasping, flailing and looking around. “You!” He hisses, seeing Derek. “Are you here to kill me?”

Derek is infinitely confused. “What?” He stares at Stiles.

“You’re in full combat gear.” Stiles says, his eyes wide. “In the middle of the night. IN MY ROOM!”

“I’m going on a mission.” Derek says, a bit disturbed at the conclusion his omega jumped to first. “I came in to let you know.” 

“Do not take this the wrong way, commander- but that is so not necessary.” Stiles says still looking spooked. “And it also might be against CM protocol.”

“I’ll be back soon.” Derek says, unsure of what to say to Stiles babbling. “I promise.”

“Uh. Sweet.” Stiles says looking a little weirded out.

“If you need anything, Boyd will be here.” Derek says. 

“I can handle myself, commander.” Stiles growls.

“I know.” Derek says smiling fondly at his omega. He has to leave now, he’s late for the chopper as it is, but Derek doesn’t want to leave Stiles. He wants to curl up around his omega and fall asleep. Derek sighs. Duty calls. He can’t resist leaning down and kissing his omega’s brow again. “Stay safe.” He murmurs, before turning and walking out of the barracks, closing the door carefully behind him.


	24. Day 40: I’m Still Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((I'm Still Here))  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Z-l9IUBOqM

1900 Hours: Liberty

Dear Scott,

I’m glad you can’t see me right now. I can only imagine the shit you’d give me. I look even more like the scrawny-ass offspring of tumble weed and lemur than usual. I know I’m probably bruised up all over, if the parts of my body I can see are any indication. I never knew bruises came in all the colors of the rainbow before now. It’s kind of fascinating.

I got through Hell Week with only moderate mortification and embarrassment. We’re down to 36 recruits now. Hangman Company has faired better than many of the others. Lady Martin, Lahey, Cutter, Werner, and I are still standing. I’ve seen guys that look like that American comic book guy, The Hulk run out of here with their tails between their legs. Survival here isn’t about being the strongest or the fastest- it’s about refusing to quit. Leaving here isn’t an option for me, no matter how bad it gets or how many times that creep, Roy gets in my face. I guess it’s something of a coincidence that two future tribe leaders are in my company, but I know that’s a big reason why failure isn’t an option for Martin or Cutter either. I think Lahey just has a superhuman ability to take shit from people and not really let it bother him, and I suspect Werner is a cyborg with no soul.

Cutter’s not actually a bad guy now that I know him better. I thought he might be full of shit when he apologized, but he’s alright. He’s a big son of a bitch, a poster boy for alpha brawn and build. He’s always around now, pulling me out of the mud, and pushing me along with that good ole boy smile of his. Between him and Martin things aren’t so bad around here. I wish they’d stop trying to sneak me their rations though, but I guess there’s no stopping an alpha trying to feed you if you have the bad luck to be an omega.

Things are getting tense around here though. Everyone is whispering and speculating about the upcoming field training. We leave in the morning. The instructors are taking us miles out into the wilderness with only our combat gear to survive. Each of the companies are going to be given an objective like a real mission. The four instructors and four other active duty Black Wolves will be operating as the enemy out of a base/prison camp and we’ll all have to get through the fucking wild, ideally without getting caught by them. Cutter’s dad went through BWT and he says nobody ever gets through without being caught. I totally believe this. If the way Lord Hale broke into my room the other night is any indication of the kind of stealth those guys can use, we’re all pretty much screwed. Anyways, when we inevitably get caught by the ‘enemy’ we’ll have to go through mock interrogations- whatever that means. Martin and Cutter are anxious. They keep checking and rechecking the gear and growling at shadows. I don’t see the point about worrying about this. No matter what happens out there, I’ll have to find a way to get through it.

Mostly I’ve been focusing my energy on trying to forget that the commander kissed me- I suspect more than once. I know it’s just another one of his mind games designed to throw me off and make me surrender and it’s not going to fucking work. The bastard is unpredictable as fuck, but I don’t think he has me figured out either. I should have known he’s smarter than he looks. He was the youngest Black Wolf in history. Cutter says the commander has more confirmed kills than any other alpha in history. The dude is relentless. He’s always staring at me, waiting for any sign of weakness or fatigue. But he doesn’t understand that I’m an omega and I have shit all to loose and everything to gain. He can make me angry but he can’t make me quit. As long as I’m breathing I’m not breaking. I will admit that I think about Lord Hale more than I don’t. He’s confusing to me, but at the end of the day I have to remember that he’s just an alpha. The thing about alphas is they don’t take you at your fucking word. No matter how many times I get up, I still don’t think anybody here expects me to last through the next fucking thing the instructors throw at us. It doesn’t matter what they expect. All that matters is that I get out of here.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared though. I’m scared all the fucking time. I don’t think my pulse has gotten below 120 my whole time here. I’d rather be scared and live free than be scared and mated. I’ll come back, Scott. I don’t know how long it’ll take or what I’ll have to do, but it’s going to happen. You were always my friend and I wish I could tell you all of this, but I know I can’t. I’m burning this letter now, Scott. It’s every man for himself out here and these words are things nobody will ever know about me. You and Martin and Cutter are good people, but you can’t help me. At the end of the day this is my fight and I have to stand alone no matter how scared I am. I can here the instructors outside now, preparing to take us to the wilderness.

Stiles


	25. Day 41: The Boyd Recommendations

0500 Hours: Briefing

“Alright recruits,” Boyd says standing before the remaining soldiers. “Hell Week is all about surviving, about waking up and getting through the day. A monkey could do that and with a lot more dignity than most of you. What you are about to embark on next will take considerable more skill and delicacy. Out there-“ Boyd motions toward the perilous-looking trees, bluffs, ridges behind him, “is the Black Wolves Training Forrest- or as we call it, Snakeass Wood. It is ten miles of the most frustrating, dense stretch of terrain in the whole motherfucking country. If it can give you a bad leg or put you in a cast, it’s out there. You got dense, old root structures, bog areas, drop-offs- all kinds of shit.” Boyd looks at the recruits with a special intensity. “Now, I don’t need to tell you that the high command has some good reasons- and some questionable ones, for challenging this class in particular.” Boyd eyes Stiles gravely. “And do not kid yourselves- you will be tested. Somewhere in the wilderness there is a prison camp/base where a team of on-duty Black Wolves will be operating. There are several structures to the camp, and certain security measures have been taken, so look alive- you never know when they’ll be watching you.”

Stiles and Martin exchange a look, their green and brown wilderness combat helmets in their laps, rucksacks by their sides. 

“Do not think just because you are in BW gear they will not be able to distinguish which one of you is which.” Boyd shoots a special look at Hangman Company. “These are seasoned trackers and veteran soldiers. They’ll know which company is which just by the way you walk.” Boyd takes a breath, continuing. “You may have noticed that you were not supplied rations for this exercise. Snakeass Wood host a significant rabbit, deer, and boar population and you will have to hunt to feed yourselves. Each of your companies have been given different objectives and will operate independently, but you will be working in concert with one another, and each company will know the objective and starting location of the others. Some of your companies are bigger than others. There are advantages and disadvantages to a larger company verses a smaller company, just as there are advantages and disadvantages to maneuvering during the day or after dark. Please note that the entire wood will be potentially booby-trapped and/or under surveillance.” Boyd raises his voice. “I will tell you it would behoove yourselves not to get caught, but in all honesty you’re going to get caught, particularly with that group of crazy motherfuckers out there this time. I’m sure you’ve noticed Instructor Roy is over-zealous at best, and the commander has permanent PMS right now- just assume you’re going to get caught. It would be to your advantage to put off capture as long as you can.” Boyd says, looking very serious. “After you’re in the prison camp the rules are all off. When they tell you they can do anything to you out there without consequences you better believe it. The average length of time for this exercise to last is four to seven days but it doesn’t end until the commander says it ends. If he wants to keep all of you out there wandering around in forest camo, chasing rabbits and sleeping in the brush like a bunch of homeless red necks until graduation, he can do it.” Boyd nods. “Please remember that you have a limited supply of stun slugs and smoke grenades. What you go in there with between your company is what you have and nothing more.” 

Cutter and Martin nod at each other, seemly pleased that they’d thought to check the gear eight hundred times last night.

“Do not fool yourselves that this is an abstract exercise. In Westenra being taken prisoner by the enemy is a very real possibility. It happened to me. I was on a mission with the commander and he was younger than all of you at the time. A kid. I will tell you the most successful teams in the past have been the ones who know how to take care of each other.” Boyd says. “The high command will be watching each of you. The Black Wolves is a small organization with in the CM. Chances are if you become part of the BW you will be running real missions with each of the instructors out there. They’ll be looking to see who behaves like a guy they’d want to have at their back in enemy territory.” Boyd nods gravely. “I will be staying here in HQ and watching over things while the other guys are out in the woods. I wish you good fortune and strength. I will see you all when you return. HOO-YAH!”

“HOO-YAH INSTRUCTOR BOYD!”


	26. Day 41: The Disappearing Omega

0600 Hours: Snakeass Wood

“We are so seriously fucked.” Lahey says. “I mean, seriously.”

Martin looks thoughtful, her lips twisting a little. “I don’t think so.” She says.

“Are you kidding me?!” Lahey squeaks. “No offense, Stilinski, but no other company has a giant scent target over its ass. The instructors will be able to track an omega all throughout this wood. We’ll be toast before 1200 hours.”

“Yeah,” Martin snorts. “Derek wishes I was going to make it that easy for him. I know this terrain. Martin territory is just outside Snakeass Wood. I’ve been thinking about this exercise since the day I got here.” The petite soldier looks up at the enormous Douglas firs. “We need to get up there.” She says.

“How high?” Cutter asks.

“High enough to get out of sight of any cameras.” Martin says.

The company climbs in to a massive tree, until they are all perched on a high branch, the width of a church pew, safely out of range of any cameras. The group carefully hang their rucksacks full of gear on smaller sturdy branches.

“Well even if they can’t see us they can still smell us, or smell Stilinski at least.” Werner grumbles.

“Oh yes they can,” Martin smiles. “I’m counting on it.”

Next to her Stiles takes off his combat helmet and pulls out a knife, handing it to Martin.

She takes it and gets out her canteen, pouring some water over her fingers and through Stiles’ hair. “It’s not easy to mask an omega’s scent,” Martin says.

“But you can create false positives and make it more difficult- particularly since the high command will be looking for only one of me.” Stiles finishes.

Martin begins shaving Stiles head carefully with the knife, meticulously collecting the wet bits of Stiles’ hair as she goes. “Scent confusion is the only way we have a chance.” Martin says, a determined look on her face. She finishes shaving Stiles’ head and begins smearing the hair over three smoke grenades. “Loose the shirt, Stilinski.” She growls. Stiles pulls off his cotton fatigue shirt and hands it over. Martin wraps it loosely around on the of the grenades. “We’re going to set these off one at a time around the wood facing the west wind, starting with this one. The wind is going to carry the smoke all over the wood and Stilinski's smell is going to be coming from all directions making it hard to track down one source. That should neutralize some of the weaker instructors. If one of the stronger ones tracks down the source, they’re going to think we left Stilinski up here in the tree for safe keeping.”

“This is only going to confuse them, not take care of the risk all together.” Werner argues. “If we take Stiles with us, sooner or later they’re going to track down the strongest source of his scent and find him. It just might take them a little longer.”

“It’s the best chance we got.” Stiles says.

“Shut up, Stilinski, I’m not done yet.” Martin says looking wicked. “They’re going to know keeping Stiles off the grid as much as possible is going to be part of our strategy, but as far as they know he can run but he can’t hide. They’re wrong.” She smirks.

“What?” Stiles is confused. “You can’t hide me. I’ve tried. It’s impossible to mask my scent completely.”

“Nothing is impossible.” Martin growls. “Just depends on what you’re willing to do to win. They’ve been trucking omegas around enemy territory for generations. Ever wonder how they do it?”

“From what I’ve seen, my guess would be not very well.” Stiles replies.

“You get enough dominant alpha stank on you, you won't even register.” Martin says. “The rest of you, take the shit out of your rucksacks and wear what you need. Conceal it where you can. Whatever you can't conceal and carry gets thrown in the river down there.” She turns to Cutter, swatting him. “Not you! You start licking Stilinski!”

“What?!” Stiles hisses.

“Not that I’m complaining, but can I ask why?” Cutter drawls.

“You need to get enough of your gross dominant scent on Stilinski that his body chemistry starts changing.” Martin says. “Then I’m going to rig him up on your back the way they used to carry omegas around during migrations in the old times. They still do it sometimes during covert operations. Only I’m going to cover him with this camouflage scrim and we’re going to get rid of out rucksacks. If anyone sees us they’re just going to think we made Cutter, the strongest guy, carry all the gear so the rest of us have more mobility.” She snickers a little evilly. "They won't know where we put Stilinski. He'll be completely off grid."

“You’re a genius,” Cutter mutters, pulling Stiles towards him.

“Wait-“ Stiles says. “You’re never going to be able to carry me that far. We might be at this for four or five days.”

“Alphas are designed to carry their mates over long distances.” Cutter says. “I’ll be fine. Besides, the way I see it, we’re killing two birds with one stone. I’ll keep you warm.”

Stiles looks over at Cutter and Martin hesitantly for a moment before nodding. “Go.” He nods, grimacing.

Cutter is gentle as he begins trailing his lips and tongue down Stiles’ neck, mouthing over the place where his scent in the strongest. Stiles stays still, feeling a bit irritated, but determined. Cutter’s touch doesn’t feel bad, just a little wet maybe. The alpha has strong hands, and soft lips, but Stiles doesn’t understand why being mouthed and licked by this alpha isn’t causing even a fraction of the sweaty, ticklish, heart-pounding response he’d had from being kissed briefly on the forehead by Lord Hale.

“Hurry it up, Cutter.” Martin growls. “You’re getting points for quality, not style.”

“Damn, Martin.” Lahey says, his eyes wide. “When did you start hating Derek so much?”

“He used to play keep away with my dolls when I was five.” Martin snarls. “I’m still holding a grudge. You keep something I love away from me- I keep something you love away from you.”


	27. Day 41: Amber Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Gaston))  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuJTqmpBnI0

0800 Hours: Camp Snakeass

“ _Gosh it disturbs me to you, Derek, looking so down in the dumps! Every guy here’d love to be you, Derek, even when taking your lumps!_ ” Cora is on the video monitor loudly singing modified words to some Disney song Derek vaguely recognizes from his childhood with a puppy on her lap.

“Please stop.” Derek grumbles.

“ _There’s no man in town as admired as you- you’re everyone’s favorite guy!_ ” Cora only sings louder, looking quite amused with herself.

“Cora!”

“ _Everyone’s awed and inspired by you and it’s not very hard to see why!_ ” She holds out the note through her bubbling laughter.

“I’m going to kill you.” Derek says, crossing his arms and glaring at his little sister.

“I’d like to see you try from the middle of nowhere!” Cora cackles. “By the way, aren’t you supposed to doing something? Like your job, maybe?”

“I’m in one of the huts at Camp Snakeass as we speak.” Derek growls. “I thought you were video calling to tell me something important, not perform a musical.”

“Who died and made you Oscar the Grouch?” Cora snorts. “You’ve been an ass to everyone for weeks, Derek. Laura said you totally freaked out on her when she came down to check on Stiles.”

“She caught me at a bad time.” Derek mumbles, sitting back in his chair.

“Your face looks stupid with all that war paint.” Cora snickers.

“What’s stupid to you is terrifying to everyone else.” Derek notes dryly.

“Moodiness doesn’t become you, Derek.” Cora says. “What the matter, Champ? You miss killing stuff?”

“I didn’t sleep too well last night.” Derek sighs, looking down. “Kept having flashbacks. Dreams and shit...” Derek’s mouth shifts into a thin, grim line. “Nobody fucking gets it.” He mutters. “It can’t keep on like this... they don’t know what’s out there in the wastelands, outside of tribe territories, what kind of shit goes down out there.” He sighs. “I’m the leader. I’m responsible for these future Black Wolves- I’m their commander. I owe it to them to prepare them for combat.” Derek puts his head in his hands. “It would be so much easier if it wasn’t Stiles...”

“Hey,” Cora’s voice softens. “It’ll be okay, Derek. You’re the strongest man I know. My whole life you’ve always know what the right thing to do is, and you’ve never hesitated to do it. You’re the bravest alpha in the BW, Derek. You can handle this.”

“Thanks Cora,” Derek sighs, looking worn. “Stiles and I will be home soon. I’ll see you then. I love you. Tell Laura I love her too.”

“Love you!” Cora smiles and then begins singing again. “ _For there’s no one as burly and brawny! As we see you’ve got biceps to spare..._ ”

Derek rolls his eyes and disconnects the call. He stands up, stretching and heads into the next room where his team of Black Wolves are gearing up.

“Listen up!” He barks into the room and everywhere soldiers look up from gathering equipment or staring up at surveillance footage. “I’ve got a rank promotion to anyone who brings in the omega in the next 24 hours.” Instead of the excitement he’d expected, Derek is met with uncomfortable shifting eyes and silence. “What?” He demands. “What is it?”

“Well...” Rollins starts, looking up from a monitor nervously. “About that...”

“Spit it out, Rollins.” Derek growls.

“We were tracking Hangman Company on the CC cameras from the time they entered Snakeass Wood but we seem to have lost Stiles.” Rollins shrunk away from the commander slowly.

“What do you mean?” Derek’s eyes flash dangerously.

“He’s not showing up with the rest of his company on the cameras. We can account for all of them on the ground but Stilinski.” Rollins clarifies.

“Then go out there and sniff him down like the alphas you are!” Derek growls.

“Yeah...” Rollins visibly pales. “About that...”

“What is it now?” Derek snarls, his teeth grinding together ominously.

“You better come outside, Hale.” Duncan says, motioning Derek towards the door.

Derek steps out on the stoop of the hut and scents the air. It’s maddening. The faint odor of Derek’s omega is coming from everywhere and no where as if some one has been fanning Stiles’ flavored perfume throughout the entire area.

“What is this?” Derek’s voice is low, dangerous.

“I went out and sniffed around.” Duncan says. “It took me an hour, but I found the source of the strongest scent. Up a tree I found that.” He tosses a bundle to Derek. “Smoke grenade covered in the omega’s shirt facing towards the wind.”

Derek curses, throwing the bundle down.

“Real smart class you got this year, Hale.” Rollins notes. “They set off another grenade about a half hour ago- this time in the far east of the woods. I don’t know where they’ve got the omega but it may take a while to find him at this rate.”

“I don’t care if you have to tear down every tree in the God-forsaken wood!” Derek yells. “You will go out and bring me my omega in the next twenty-four hours or I will have all of your asses demoted back to recon with the rest of the useless herd! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!”

“YES COMMANDER HALE!’


	28. Day 42: Falcon in the Dive

1100 Hours: Camp Snakeass

“Derek.”

“Mmm.”

“Derek!”

“Hurmph.”

“Are you even listening to me?!” Boyd is watching Derek pace around the room shirtless from a video monitor hanging on the wall of makeshift command center in Camp Snakeass.

“No.” Derek answers shortly, not stopping his stomping. 

Boyd sighs audibly. “What did I just say?”

“That my traitor-ass team of instructors have been calling you saying I’ve been running through the woods non-stop for twenty- six straight hours, like it’s a bad thing, and apparently since all of you are doctors now, you’ve come to the unanimous conclusion that what I’m doing is somehow unhealthy, even though I’m clearly the only asshole out here who is reacting to this bullshit situation properly, only nobody cares to acknowledge that fact because you’ve all been drinking the same pansy-ass apathy Kool-Aid, and if you did what I’ve been doing to Stiles to Erica, she would castrate you- because the opinions of uninformed civilian betas should really be a factor in all of this, and I should stop threatening the three teams of recruits I’ve captured with decimation if they don’t tell me where Stiles is because that isn’t a real thing- even though it totally is, it’s just technically not legal, and it’s highly unlikely that they actually know where Stiles is anyways, and I’m one spandex costume away from being a supervillian, and stop stomping around like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum before you call my sister, and I can’t grocery shop for shit, you’re eating the rest of the Oreos in Blackden and you’re happy about that.” Derek says in a stream of irritated breath. “You talking about that?” 

Boyd eyes his friend. “Anyone ever tell you that you have selective hearing?” 

“No.” Derek growls.

“Dude.” Boyd looks disturbed. “I knew it was a mistake to let you go out there without me. Listen- far be it from me to tell you how to run your training-“

“And yet you’re going to anyways.” Derek mutters darkly.

“But you need to calm the fuck down.” Boyd continues. “It’s a training exercise. You’ve done this like four times before. It’s the same damn thing. Stiles is fine. If anything really bad happens out there, like he gets injured or something Lydia would tell you- she’s a smart soldier. You’re not the only one who cares about him. You used to trust your team, Derek.”

“I need to find him, Boyd.” Derek says darkly. “What if he’s out there hurt or scared or-“

“Commander Hale!” Rollins, the twitchy intelligence expert sticks his head inside the door. “You better come out here! Duncan, Lief, and Garitty located Hangman Company. They’re bringing them in now!” 

Derek jumps up and bolts out the door.

“Don’t be an complete and total idiot, Derek!” Boyd calls after him from the wall. “That’s all I’m asking!” He sighs. 

“Hi Boyd.” Rollins calls from the door.

“Don’t let him kill anybody.” Boyd tells the smaller Black Wolf.

“Um. No promises.” Rollins says before running back out into the camp yard.


	29. Day 42: Dogfight

1100 Hours: Camp Snakeass

Derek’s whole demeanor changes as he exits the hut. He finds himself automatically shifting into predator mode, calculated and meticulous, every movement easy and dangerous. Derek lost his shirt somewhere in the last twenty-four hours and his impressive alpha muscles are covered in a sheen of grime and sweat. His black combat pants swing low on his hips, a belt full of silver ammunition hanging off them. Around his bare chest is buckled a worn leather shoulder holster containing a combat knife on one side and a revolver on the other. His face is deadly still and menacing like something undead and out for blood, painted up with the grim, black death war paint of the Hale tribe. He stops on the stoop of the hut, wordlessly surveying the camp yard. Three metal cages cemented into the ground containing the twenty-eight already captured recruits off to his right. The three imprisoned teams watch with frightened interest as Duncan, Leif, and two other Black Wolves roughly lead in Martin, Werner, Cutter, and Lahey and force the group to their knees with biting kicks in the center of the yard in front of Derek. Hangman Company looks worse for wear, dirty, wet and disheveled. The four members are blindfolded, their hands zip tied tightly behind their backs. Stiles isn’t among them. 

“Where’s Stiles?” Derek growls to Rollins quietly. 

“Garitty is bringing the omega in, Commander Hale.” Rollins says quickly. “They should be around at any minute. 

“Garitty?” Derek raises an eyebrow, looking like he wants to punch something. 

“He’s a medic, Commander Hale.” Rollins says. “We wanted to let you know we were handling the merchandise with care.” 

“You better be right.” Derek says ominously before turning back to his men in the yard. “Blindfolds off!” He snaps. “I want to look these shit-stains in the eye.” 

The men pull off the blindfolds and Hangman Company blinks, taking in their surroundings. Lahey looks at the ground almost immediately, Werner’s face is carefully blank, he stares in front of him, looking at nothing. Martin sees him approaching and her upper lip curls up in a half-snarl. Cutter meets his eye boldly, refusing to look away.

“And here they are.” Derek says slowly through clenched teeth. “The elusive Hangman Company. Bet you thought you were pretty clever, didn’t you?” Derek smiles a cold, vicious smile. He leans down and whispers into Martin’s face. “Nobody escapes me, you little shit.” He stands back up. “Now. I’m going to give you fuckers one chance- same as I did your unfortunate comrades over there-“ Derek motions towards the cages. “Give me the location of the remaining team and everyone can go home.” Silence. “Come on guys,” Derek drawls. “Just give up the location of Nomad Company and you can all go back to base and get a hot shower and a good meal. No more woods, no more sleeping on the ground, no more eating squirrels. Nobody gets hurt.” Again, Derek is met with stony silence. “No?” He says. “Then I guess we’ll all just have to play together a little longer. You can ask your friends over there in my zoo. I like to play rough-“ Derek stops his traditional POW training intimidation speech and turns slowly, his face murderous. 

Out of the corner of his eye Derek can see Duncan and Lief exchange nervous looks. Lahey subconsciously shifts away, but Lydia is watching Derek closely with a special gleam in her eye.

Derek leans down close to Cutter, his teeth bared, a low growl emanating from his throat. “What. Is. That.” 

Lydia lets out a single humorless bark of a laugh. “Thought you’d like that, Derek.” She says, low and taunting. 

Derek snarls ferociously, ignoring her. He reaches out roughly, grabbing Cutter’s hair and wrenching the alpha’s head back. 

“Why do you smell like that?” Derek demands, death in his eyes. 

“This one was carrying the omega concealed on his back, like in the old times.” Duncan supplies nervously. “That’s how they were able to mask the omega’s scent for so long. Stilinski reeks like this one.” Duncan indicates Cutter.

“What did you do to him?” Derek growls into Cutter’s face, his teeth snapping.

Cutter growls right back. “Nothing he didn’t want.” He says boldly. 

“Cut him loose.” Derek orders, his face twisted in pure rage.

“Derek-“ Duncan says warningly, but Cutter is already climbing to his feet, nearly bursting out of his bonds to get at the commander. 

“I said, CUT HIM LOOSE!” Derek roars.

“Stop it, you assholes!” Lydia yells. “Derek, nothing bad happened-“

“This is between me and you, Cutter!” Derek snarls, circling the other alpha.

Cutter is free from his bonds now and he’s circling right back, angry and coiled to attack.

“What is this, Hale?” He growls. “Some kind of misplaced sense of honor? From you? That’s rich. Stilinski was in on the whole thing.” 

Derek roars and flies in the air, leonine in his power. Cutter springs at almost the exact same moment and the two alphas collide terrifically in the air, a clash of hard muscle and bones. The enormous soldiers roll together on the ground, fists locked against each other. They fight for dominance in the dirt for a few moments, nothing but bestial snarls and the sounds of fists. Cutter gains ground first, standing up and delivering a hard kick to Derek’s abdomen. It’s almost as if Derek can’t feel the pain through the adrenalin because he reaches out and grabs Cutter’s leg, ripping the other alpha to the ground and leaping on him viciously. Cutter lands a hard punch to Derek’s face and the commander can feel blood running down his skin somewhere. He roars in anger and backhands the other alpha hard. 

“What’s the matter, Hale?” Cutter grounds out, spiting blood. “Still pissed that outside of here I outrank you? Stiles seemed to like the scent of a real chief on him.”

Derek roars and flips the other alpha easily, clambering on top of Cutter, locking him down and throwing blow after crippling blow down on the other alpha.

“Oh my God.” 

A familiar voice shatters Derek’s rage and both he and Cutter look up and over to see Stiles gaping at them openly. The omega’s hands are zip tied behind his back and Garrity is behind him, also staring at the commotion.

“Stiles, stop them!” Lydia wails from the side. “They’re killing each other!” 

Stiles looks pretty unimpressed by the whole thing. Derek rolls off Cutter quickly and both alphas climb to their feet, mud and sweat and each other’s blood covering them. 

Stiles stares at them both for a moment longer before pointedly looking directly in Derek’s eyes.

“You disgust me.” He spits.

The omega’s words bring Derek immediately back to the present and his job and his responsibilities. He wants nothing more than to run to his omega and bury his face in Stiles’ neck and explain the situation. He longs to check Stiles over and ask if he’s okay and then hold him until it’s like the stench of that idiot, Cutter was never on Stiles and all the omega smells like is Derek. But Derek can’t do that. He has a job to do and a duty to uphold. Derek hates it but he lives in a world of cruelty and malice, and he wants to protect Stiles in the long run even more than he wants to kiss him now. Derek will not run from his responsibilities. 

“Get those four locked up in cage three.” Derek says. “Tie the omega up out here.” He turns and heads back into the hut.


	30. Day 44: The Diary of GI Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ((Diary of Jane))  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AiBG6vuLrzY

0700 Hours: Interrogation

It’s early morning. Stiles couldn’t tell you exactly when. He lost track of the hours long ago. He’s been tied at the edge of camp all this time, out of sight from the other recruits. He can smell little more than fear and misery through the overwhelming cold, but none of individual scents of his fellow recruits. He hasn’t seen Derek since he’d stumbled into the alpha brawling full out with Cutter. Stiles isn’t positive, but he’s almost certain the root of the fight had been some alpha bullshit about Stiles’ scent. The first thing the BW- the one they’d called a medic, had done upon tying Stiles to the stake at the edge of the camp was hose him down thoroughly with icy cold water. The makeshift shower had seemed to go on forever and Stiles suspects it was less about prisoner discomfort and more about banishing the scent of Cutter from Stiles’ bare chest. After that Stiles had been left alone. The medic coming back silently every few hours to refresh a water bowl that he’d set beside the omega. Each time the medic had been silent, a black combat face mask obscuring his identity. Only once had the medic spoken. It had been sometime during mid-day.

“You better pray for all our sakes one of your class cracks before they call you in.” The medic had muttered, sounding infinitely tense.

Stiles had glared back coldly at the medic, and spat cleanly on the ground in front of him.

“That attitude ain’t going to get you anywhere but the morgue.” The medic had said, and his tone wasn’t threatening or filled with the usual intimidating bluster. “And it’s the lucky ones of your kind that end up just dead. Out there a brave omega is a stupid omega.” The medic had warned quietly. “You remember that.”

They come for Stiles, at last, in early morning. The medic and another one BW pull him up roughly and usher him back through camp quickly. Stiles doesn’t get a good look at his fellow recruits, still caged up, but he can feel them watching him with silent intensity. The soldiers walk Stiles down a long path into a hut and sit him down on a sole chair in the middle of barren room. Leif, Duncan, and the commander stand around the room in tattered warrior dress, war makeup smeared on their faces like demons. Lord Hale stands in the back, to the side, not looking at Stiles. Leif has a filthy black bandanna tied around the lower half of his face, and Duncan has his powerful arms folded in front of his chest. They both look at Stiles unblinkingly as he sits before them with his hands tied tightly around his back. The nameless BW exits, but the medic stays, off to one side, pulling off his combat mask, a grim expression in his eyes.

“I never thought I’d fucking see the day,” Lief starts, quiet and gruff as he walks towards Stiles. “When I’d have an omega in front of me as part of a BW team.”

Stiles looks down at the BW’s shoes. His face neither hostile nor defeated, but blank, neutral.

“Bet it’s been real hard, ain’t it?” Leif muses. “But this doesn’t have to be. Tell me what I want to know. Nobody would blame you.”

Stiles’ face doesn’t move. He doesn’t react in any way.

Duncan circles in front of him. “What is name of your tribal leader?”

Stiles doesn’t even look up.

“It’s a simple question, Stilinski.” Leif says. “No reason not to answer.”

Stiles sets his jaw in. “Chief.” He says, his voice dead.

Duncan leans over, crouching next to Stiles, eye level with him. “Who is the acting head of your company for this exercise?”

“Alpha.” Stiles replies, like a robot.

“You can answer these questions, you know. Nobody has to bleed today.” Duncan says, leaning closer. “How old are you?”

Stiles turns and looks the instructor in the eye. “Alive.” He says.

Stiles registers movement behind him, and doesn’t hear but rather feels and smells the commander coming up behind him. He sees Duncan’s eyes rise to meet the commander’s, something registering in them. Duncan gets up and steps aside. The moment the instructor is up, the commander moves quickly, acting without fanfare. Stiles feels a stinging blow to the back of his head as the commander backhands him hard, whipping the omega’s head to the side. Stiles remains cooly expressionless despite the pain.

Derek is down in front of him immediately, the alpha’s face dangerously cold and nearly unrecognizable. “Why did you let your team literally carry you, Stilinski? Was it really about tracking you or were you too chickenshit to get your boots on the ground?” He asks this with a cruel, mocking tone.

“I’m not talking.” Stiles hisses back. “You can just tie me up like a dog again, because you’ll get shit out of me.”

Derek stands up, takes a step back, looking like he’s about to head back to the corner, before he pivots abruptly, and roundhouses Stiles, punching the omega full on in the face. Stiles lets out a grunt of pain, feeling himself fly out of the chair, landing hard on the floor. The omega spits blood, the red saliva running down his chin, his neck, and on the floor. From the side Duncan winces slightly, closing his eyes.

Derek is over him now, towering and dark. “I don’t need to treat you like a dog to get what I want.” Derek says, his voice distant- the threateningly confident tone of a veteran mercenary.

“I always knew you were a sick son of a bitch.” Stiles says, looking up from the ground. “You think that scares me?”

“Down to your worthless uterus.” Derek says, hauling the omega up easily by Stiles’ bound hands and throwing him hard into a wall. The impact is brutal, and Stiles slides down to the floor again, groaning.

“You seem to be under the ignorant impression that this is about you and me.” Derek says, coming towards him again. “I wish it were that easy. But this isn’t about you or me or omegas.” Derek kicks Stiles’ in the ribs hard. “This is about a combat zone out there that could give a shit about you as a person or what’s fucking progressive or fucking fair.” He leans down and hauls Stiles up by his hair. “You think one of those fucking rogues are going have some kind of internal battle of conscience just because you have pretty eyes? You think I’m sick?! You don’t know what sick is and you’re fighting real hard for a chance to find out.”

“Go to hell.” Stiles grounds out.

“We’re already there.” Derek says, throwing Stiles back towards another wall as easily as if the omega was a rag doll. Stiles hits the wall hard again, coughing and bleeding all over.

“Derek-“ The medic eyes the commander.

“What?” Derek turns, looking at the rest of his obviously uncomfortable team of instructors. “You got a problem with this?” He’s met with a tense silence. “THEN GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! GET OUT!”

The three other alphas give the commander reproachful looks, but they silently exit the hut. Stiles isn’t paying attention to the instructors. He’s struggling to get to his feet, his face bleeding in a steady stream.

“You think I should be like everyone else and turn a blind eye to reality in favor of some bullshit policy?” Derek gathers Stiles in a headlock, choking him, ramming his face against a hard concrete wall.

“Fuck you!” Stiles spits out.

“I am so glad we finally agree on something.” Derek growls, hauling Stiles up and kicking out the door of the hut. The alpha throws Stiles bodily down the stairs of the hut, sending the omega tumbling end over end into the mud and into the watching eyes of the other recruits.

The recruits are all standing up in the cages now, pressed against the chainlink. Stiles vaguely registers the anger and fear scent coming from the group. The commander grabs Stiles from the scruff of his sensitive omega neck and pulls him into the camp yard, closer to the other recruits. Derek runs Stiles over to a rusted, murky watering tub and dunks the omega’s face into the disgusting water, holding him under, looking up at the recruits as he slowly drowns Stiles.

“I’ve got one more team still out there!” He shouts to them. “Who wants to give me some information?”

After what feels like an eternity he pulls Stiles’ out of the water. The omega is coughing hard and throwing up water, blood still running down his face.

“WHAT THE HELL, HALE?!” Stiles hears Cutter roar from one of the cages. “THAT’S AN OMEGA!”

“And you can make this stop at any time!” Derek yells back, throwing Stiles to the ground again. “Any of you can step up and be chivalrous and stop me. Just give me a lead!”

Stiles coughs and tries to stand, weakly. Derek grabs the omega by the scruff again, one arm around Stiles’ neck, restraining the omega, the other with a harsh grasp in Stiles’ scalp. He walks them over to the cage where Cutter and Martin stand, shocked and outraged. He forces Stiles up against the chain link, giving Cutter a good look at the damage.

“You got something to tell me, Cutter?” Derek asks viciously.

“Don’t you dare do it.” Stiles spits out between two split lips, staring hard at his company. “Don’t you say one word-“

Derek throws Stiles to the ground again, kicking him viciously. Stiles hears roars of indignation and rage coming from the cages behind him, along with rattling of the chain link.

“This is bullshit!” Martin screams. “It’s a fucking war game, Derek!”

“You think this is a game?” Derek calls back, forcing Stiles over a table, his massive alpha hands pressing painfully into Stiles’ neck. “You think our enemies will agree with that?”

“STILES TALK TO HIM OR I WILL!” Cutter yells.

Stiles raises his bloody face from where it’s smashed into the table. “DON’T YOU TELL HIM SHIT!” He roars.

“Ever think about what would happen to an omega who gets captured?” Derek calls to the recruits. “Ever think about what they’d do to him to get to you?” He pulls up a knife and Stiles can feel the commander cutting through the leather of Stiles’ belt, Derek’s hips pressing into his ass harshly. “Let me give you an idea!” Derek calls.

“I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, HALE!” Cutter screams.

“Give me one good piece of information about the last team and I’ll let you out to try!” Derek yells back.

“DON’T YOU TELL HIM A SINGLE GODDAMN THING, CUTTER!” Stiles screams back.

“HE’S HURTING YOU!” Cutter yells, losing it.

“YOU WILL NOT SURRENDER TO THE ENEMY!” Stiles yells back as Derek kicks his legs open wider.

“Can’t you see what you’re doing to them?” Derek hisses into Stiles’ ear, low where only the omega can hear him. “What danger you’re opening not only yourself but also your team to?”

“You’re not going to do shit!” Stiles hisses back, furious.

Derek growls and presses the blade of his knife against the bare part of Stiles’ skin where he’s forced up Stiles’ shirt.

“You sure about that?” He snarls into Stiles’ neck.

“They don’t know you like I do, shithead.” Stiles snarls lowly.

“You underestimate the lengths I’m prepared to go to keep you safe.” Derek growls, his lips against Stiles’ ear.

Stiles laughs, blood running down his lips, raising his head to meet Derek’s. “You underestimate the lengths I’m prepared to go to be free.”

Stiles slams his head back ferociously, into Derek’s face, giving the alpha a bloody nose. Derek is thrown for half a second but is back on Stiles in the same breath, slamming the omega down hard on the table.

“Savor it, Derek!” Stiles spits. “This is the only time you’ll ever get to touch me.”

“COMMANDER!” Leif is running at them both carrying a tablet. Derek looks up. “CODE BONES! CODE VECTOR! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”

Derek lets go of Stiles and wrenches the tablet out of Leif’s arms. Boyd is staring up at him from it.

“What the hell is going on out there, Derek?!” Boyd yells from the tablet. “I got intel that a rogue army of alphas has broken into BWT Forest following the overwhelming scent of multiple omegas in the area. There’s around 75-100 alpha rogues and they are armed and dangerous. You need to evacuate NOW! Take the officers and the recruits and get the hell out of there!”


	31. Day 44: Snakeass Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Personal essay from the author’s view: The feedback and discussions this fic has generated have been very exciting and very flattering for me and I have enjoyed reading it all very much. For those of you who may be more interested in my process during this fic, I thought I’d reach out and address some of the discussion from my point of view, (a sort of director’s commentary, if you will.) 
> 
> The previous chapter is a nearly scene for scene rewrite of one of the most noted sections of the original film. This scene in the film is what inspired me to write this fic in the first place. I was fascinated with the multi-layered relationship dynamic between the Master Chief Urgayle character and Jordan. While we get hints of sympathy from Urgayle for Jordan’s crusade as a female in a male dominated field, we also see him struggle reconciling his sense of overwhelming duty towards the troops to portray the reality of women on the front lines with his personal feelings for Jordan as an individual and what should be, in an ideal world, fair. The sheer shocking brutality of male on female violence- the depiction of which is taboo for many people, was very attractive to me as a writer and I wanted to explore it more with the added the complication of being (very unromantically,) romantically involved. In Derek I see a former child soldier who is motivated by fear and memories of trauma, along with a fierce sense of duty. In Stiles, I see an isolated, marginalized member of a primitive society who is seriously ruthless about achieving social mobility in a dangerous world. I do not see either of them as male, female, omega, alpha, gay, straight, moral, immoral, or whatever. As the author, I see these two as individual people with motivations, goals, and perceptions that make sense to them in the moment. I am a sucker for the ugly in human relationships, for the challenging, for the unlovable aspects of people and behavior. I’m a big fan of romances that should not work, that feel impossible. Dirty gritty miraculous love is beautiful to me, and it’s possible I’m just fucked in the head in that way.
> 
> For those of you looking for realism, I can only direct you back to the disclaimer that has been in the synopsis of this fic since it was posted. Also, if authenticity is important to you in a fic, maybe don’t try one next time that includes male pregnancy and the creation of a whole new country due to a Thomas Jefferson plot to kill off a whole section of the North American frontier. Ridiculous? Yes. Regrets? Hell no. It’s only going to get more implausible from here on out. Party. The plot is also going to abandon the movie plot as of now as well. 
> 
> Thanks for allowing my fantasy world into your lives and thank you even more for letting me know what you think. The good, bad, and the weird- I genuinely like all of your comments. The more I hear from you, the more I am driven to write quickly. Thank you for your support.))

0800 Hours: Evacuation

“WHERE THE FUCK IS NOMAD COMPANY?!” Derek roars. 

“I’ve got the coordinates.” Martin says. “They’re undercover, right outside Hut 8. They’ve been here the whole time.” 

“Choppers should be touching down at any moment to get your people out of there.” Boyd says. 

The commander pulls out an knife and Stiles loose quickly, one hand still on the tablet. “I want you to take all of the recruits and get them out of here now!” Derek yells to Duncan. “I’m headed to B17.” 

“You don’t have any ammunition except blanks, Commander!” Duncan says, as the other officers begin freeing up the recruits. “You can’t stay out here on your own.”

“I have to do recon until they can get backup in here.” Derek says, loading himself up with knives and looking around to make sure his officers are doing their jobs. “The bunker in impenetrable- I’ll be fine.” 

“You’re staying out here by yourself?!” Stiles asks, his eyes wide. “You can’t do that!” 

“Can I get a fucking medic over here?!” Derek yells. “Garitty! Get over here and make sure Stiles is okay.” 

Garitty jogs over, and everyone’s hair is blowing all over the place as the first chopper lands. “I’m fine!” Stiles yells over the commotion, batting the medic away. “Derek, you can’t stay out here.” 

“He’s fine, Stiles! Standard operating procedure.” Boyd yells from Derek’s arm. 

“I’ve got Nomad Company right here, commander!” Roy yells, coming in with the three recruits. 

“Get them on the chopper now!” Derek orders. “You go with them, Roy and take Burns and Rollins with you.” 

“Chopper 2 on the ground.” Leif yells. 

“Ellen and Hangman I want you on that chopper now!” Derek orders. “Do you have a location on the enemy?” He asks Boyd. 

“Coming in hot on the east.” Boyd says. 

Stiles turns and sees Ellen Company and his team climbing into Chopper 2 as Chopper 1 takes off with Nomad. In the distance they all turn and hear sounds of explosives out in the brush.

“Stiles- get on that flight!” Derek orders. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” Stiles yells, feeling hysterical and panicked for reasons he’s completely unsure of. “I can’t leave you out here!”

“Garitty, get him on that chopper!” Derek yells, turning back to Boyd. “I can hear them!”

“They’re coming in faster than anticipated.” Boyd replies. 

Stiles is completely lost as to what’s come over him but every cell in his body is telling him that he cannot leave Derek right now, that something terrible will happen if he separates from the alpha and it is imperative that he stay with him. 

He snarls and easily flips the medic as Garitty comes at him. “I can’t!” He says, looking up at Derek, pleadingly. 

“We can’t keep holding up the chopper!” Duncan yells from the open door of the chopper. “Everyone is off the ground except for Garitty, Stilinski, and you!” 

“Holy shit, Commander!” Garrity yells, pointing towards the east. “We have enemies in sight!”

Through the brush the first group of alphas, about five rogue scouts- is storming its way into camp. Derek swears, grabbing Stiles around the waist and throwing the omega over his shoulder. He hears Garrity cry out next to him. Derek looks over and sees the medic’s been hit with a crossbow. He grabs the medic under his other arm and hurdles towards the chopper, running on pure adrenalin. Derek stumbles under the weight of two grown men, cursing, and Stiles falls from his arm. He all but throws the injured medic into the chopper, leaving Stiles behind momentarily. 

“Stiles!” Martin screams, pointing behind Derek. 

Derek turns and to his absolute horror he sees Stiles being manhandled off the ground by three of the rogues. He lets loose a howl of absolute fury, turning to fly over to his omega. 

“GO!” He screams at the pilot. “I’ll take care of Stiles! GET THE RECRUITS OUT OF HERE!”

“DEREK YOU OUT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING MIND!” Boyd yells from where the tablet has been abandoned on the ground. 

The chopper takes off behind them and Derek turns, a picture of the lone Black Wolf, ferociously angry and dangerously desperate.


	32. Day 44: Negotiations

0800 Hours: Fallen Camp

Derek runs back to where two rogues of Stiles under the arms, three more standing by, watching the last chopper out rise into the air. Derek is loath to let the omega out of his sight. Everything in him is itching, craving the blood of those who would dare touch his mate. His blood goes cold as he draws closer and recognizes one of the alphas. 

“Maurice.” Derek growls, his eyes narrowing at the leader of this, the first wave of his enemy. 

The enormous ragged, rogue responds with raucous laughter. “This couldn’t get any better. Commander Hale. Come any closer and I’ll have my men gut him like a fish.”

“Let the omega go and I will let you live.” Derek snarls menacing and furious. 

“You’re unarmed and out-numbered, Hale.” Maurice smirks. The alpha rogue is missing an eye, and his face is covered with the scars of countless battles. “I have an army coming along shortly. You’re in no position to be making threats.”

“I am not threatening you, Maurice.” Derek growls, grinding his teeth. “I am telling you that if you want to live you will hand the omega over immediately.” 

Maurice is a hideous old alpha rogue, strong as a bear and twice as fierce. His greying hair flows over immense shoulders, and a hulking frame. He smirks at Derek slimily. 

“Derek-“ Stiles starts. 

“Quiet, Stiles!” Derek hisses. 

Maurice raises an eyebrow. “First name basis? This is a first for you, Commander.” The sickening rogue leans down towards Stiles and Derek growls in response. A slow, evil smile comes over the rogue’s face and he begins shaking with laughter. “It can’t be...” He snorts. “It’s too much. Is it yours, Hale? Is this your omega?” 

Derek glares back, flashing his teeth.

“He smells pure.” Maurice says, considering. “So you’ve not mated yet. Pretty little thing, isn’t he?” Maurice leans over and touches Stiles’ face. The omega tries to struggle against his captors. Maurice’s rancid breath is in his face and he can’t move. “So responsive.” Maurice murmurs against Stiles face. He turns back to Derek. “If you come peacefully I’ll let you watch when I deflower your delicate little fiancee.” 

Derek roars in rage and makes a move to attack, but is stopped by Maurice’s cold voice.

“Watch yourself, Hale.” The rogue warns. “If you make a move I will over-power you. Not even the Dark Prince of Westenra can take a whole army by himself. If you attack I will roast your omega alive in front of you.” 

Derek hesitates and then he says. “Take me.” 

“Derek!” Stiles screams. 

“What was that?” Maurice says, the evil smile broadening. 

“I said, take me.” Derek growls. “You’ve been obsessed with my capture since I was a kid. Let him go and I’ll go willingly.” 

“Why would I do that when I could wait and have you both?” Maurice asks. 

“If you take Stiles, my sister will never negotiate with you and neither will any of the other tribes. You’ll be able to kill us but you won’t get anything else.” Derek says, looking Maurice cooly in the eye. “If you let him go and only take me, I’ll convince my sister to break Hale code and negotiate with you.” Maurice looks skeptical and Derek snarls. “Kill us both then, you idiot. You’ll never gain any ground with the tribal council. They’ll hunt you like the vermin you are and hang you over our graves.” 

“You’ll come willingly?” Maurice says, eyeing his conspirators. 

“Let the omega go safely and I’m all yours.” Derek says. 

“Derek no!” Stiles screams. “Don’t do this! This isn’t you- Don’t do this!” 

“Quiet Stiles,” Derek says softly, holding his wrists out to the rogue. 

“You can’t do this, Derek!” Stiles pleads, tears beginning to run down his face. “Don’t do this.” 

“Your alpha is a man of honor.” Maurice smirks to the omega, he looks back up at Derek, smirking. “You’re too fucking predicable, Hale.”

“Just let him go.” Derek says. 

Maurice nods and the other two alphas push Stiles to the ground, stepping back. Stiles runs to Derek frantically, throwing himself into the alpha’s arms, clinging to him, burring his face into Derek’s neck desperately. Derek holds him back tightly for a long moment before loosening his arms and letting Stiles go.

“You can’t go.” Stiles says, pleading up into Derek’s face. “You can’t leave me like this, Derek, please. Don’t leave me like this-“ 

“Stiles I need you to listen to me.” Derek says, looking at the omega in the eyes sternly. “I need you to go back in Hut 4 right now.” 

“I’m not leaving you.” Stiles sobs, trying to cling to Derek. “I can’t.” 

“Stiles, listen to me.” Derek says, soothing the omega’s face. “It’s going to be okay. Just go back to Hut 4.” He pushes the omega away towards the hut, but Stiles can’t move, he’s glued to the spot, staring at Derek. 

“He’s bad at following orders.” Maurice notes, roughly grabbing Derek’s wrists and tying them tightly together. 

“Yeah,” Derek mutters. “We’re working on that.” 

Derek growls and throws his head forwards against Maurice's, hitting the other alpha hard. Quickly, Derek reaches out with his bound hands and plucks out the rogue’s remaining eye. The rogue leader howls and lashes out blindly, blood running down his face. The other rogues jump into action at the sight, but Derek has pivoted quickly, kicking one solidly in the gut, sending the other howling with an elbow to the jaw. Derek runs then, grabbing Stiles with both arms and hurtling through the camp yard into Hut 4. Once inside he slams the door behind them, locking it the best he can and sets Stiles on the ground. Derek kicks open closet and begins tossing supplies like a mad man, clearing out the floor. He finally reveals a large metal bunker door on the bottom of the closet. Derek hurtles himself to the ground, placing both palms on the door’s panel, allowing it to scan both his hand prints. Stiles can hear bullets pounding through the walls and crawls over down next to Derek. The alpha hauls the thick, round door up and all but tosses Stiles down into the darkness of the bunker in the floor before quickly climbing in after the omega and pulling the thick iron door behind them securely.


	33. Day 44: Omega Panic

0800 Hour: B17

Stiles lands in the darkness and hears Derek hit the ground after him. Derek, like all the Black Wolves has a digital device on his wrist and he begins punching codes into it rapidly as lights come on in the bunker at his command. The sudden light allows Stiles to take in his surroundings. They’re inside of the dark, underground bunker. It’s larger than it looks from the outside- two stories and several rooms all in concrete and steel. The main space has a intelligence center and Derek is immediate down by the system, programming passwords and codes into it from his wrist. The one by one the giant screens come alive, some showing shots of the wood, others loading data. 

“What is this place?” Stiles asks, looking around. He’s still shaken over what’s just occurred and he feels like his heart is about to hammer it’s way out of his chest. 

“Every section of Snakehead Base can be walled off to isolate threats if one area is compromised. I’m sure they’ve sealed up BWT Forrest by now. Every area also has a panic bunker equipped to keep personnel safe but on scene until reinforcements can be arranged. This is Safe Bunker 17.” Derek is swiping his finger prints into the intelligence console and banging on the keyboard like an abusive musician. Finally the main screen blinks into being, and Boyd’s face fills the room. 

“Good job, Derek.” Boyd says. “Are you and Stiles both locked in B17 now?” 

“Affirmative.” Derek says, wiping the blood of his hands on to his combat pants. 

“I thought they were going to fuck Stiles up for a minute there, man. I hate watching from the cameras and not being on the ground.” Boyd says. “You okay, Stiles?” 

Stiles numbly walks over next to Derek closer to the camera. “Fine.” He says dully. 

Boyd looks infinitely taken aback. “Damn Derek!” He says. “What the hell happened to Stiles? I didn’t think they had a chance to rough him up. Why does he look like he’s been run over by an army?” 

“Nah. They didn’t touch me.” Stiles says. “They found me like this.” 

Boyd looks at them both suspiciously. “That doesn’t answer the question, but let me patch Laura through.” 

The screen splits and Lady Hale’s face comes into view next to Boyd’s. “They’ve managed to seal the perimeter around the BWT Forrest, Derek.” She says quickly, all business. “The enemy is contained. We’re still getting a head count. Are you okay?”

Derek winces. “Stiles,” he swallows. “He needs medical attention.” He looks up at his sister, a little desperate. “When can you get him out of here, Laura? I think he’s in shock.” 

“You’re not going anywhere for at least twenty-four hours, Derek.” Laura says. “Send Stiles into the med room. I’ll patch Dr. Sonia into the video monitor there. He can guide Stiles through some self-care.” 

“How much is he going to be able to help from another county, Laura?” Derek snarls. “I need you to get transport for Stiles to a hospital now!” 

“Derek- if that was possible, I’d do it.” Laura says. “But it’s not, so cool your jets and help me find solutions here instead of alpha-ing out like a teenager.” 

“Derek-“ Stiles says, still a bit breathless. “I’m fine-“ 

“If he gets any worse I will carry him out of here myself, Laura- back up be damned.” Derek says ferociously at the screen. 

“Calm down, Derek!” Boyd says. 

“I will not calm down-“ 

“Stiles- it’s the first door on your right.” Laura sighs, talking over the two officers. 

Stiles follows her directions and enters a small room with an examination table and rows and rows of first aid supplies. He closes the door behind him with shaking arms. The small monitor on the wall clicks on and the handsome face of an omega doctor looks out at him. 

“Hello, Stiles?” The doctor asks. 

“Uh. Yeah.” Stiles breaths, trying to breathe properly. 

“My name is Dr. Sonia.” The man on the screen says. “I’m Cora and Laura’s omegas’ personal physician. Can you step up closer to the camera and place you wrist on the metal bar under the screen?”

Stiles tries to settle his hands, to stop the tremors. He takes a breath and sets his hands on the metal bar. 

“Thank you,” The doctor says. “Well it looks like you have elevated blood pressure and an elevated pulse, but I’ve been watching the footage. It’s not unusual given the circumstances. What hurts and how much on a scale from one to ten?”

“Uh.” Stiles blinks. “I have some cracked ribs, I think- but it’s okay. It’s nothing I haven’t had before. I think...” He winces, closing his eyes. “I think the rest is just bruising and stuff. My lips are pretty torn up, but I’ve healed from stuff like this before.” 

“You don’t look very well, Stiles.” Dr. Sonia says, looking closer into the screen. “Do you need to call Lord Hale-“

“No!” Stiles says quickly. “I just... I don’t know what came over me out there. I’ve never felt such... such panic before.” He closes his eyes, feeling whatever unnaturally strong terror has been clawing at his insides since hearing that Derek intended to stay behind threaten to surface again. “I don’t know why... I don’t... I couldn’t leave.” 

“Stiles-“ Dr. Sonia says in a low, calm voice. “I didn’t see anything abnormal about your behavior out there. You’re an omega-“

“I’m a soldier!” Stiles snaps, furious with himself. “I should have known better! I almost got Derek killed!”

“You could be GI Joe, himself- you were still in a dangerous front line situation for the first time.” Dr. Sonia says. “If you had been willing to leave your alpha- your main source of protection and the enabler of your survival easily, I’d be far more concerned.”

“Derek is not my alpha!” Stiles counters sharply. 

“I’m not talking about whether or not you consciously accept Lord Hale as your mate, Stiles.” Dr. Sonia says. “This is something deeper than that. You’ve been training in a highly stressful environment with very little sleep, shitty food, and a lot of unpredictability. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve known Lord Hale for longer than anyone else at training, right?”

“Yes.” Stiles says, still flushed and breathless. 

“He saved your life, didn’t he? When you were children?” Dr. Sonia continues calmly. 

“Uh. Sort of.” Stiles mutters.

“You’re not likely to forget that any time soon, Stiles.” Dr. Sonia says. “It makes perfect sense that you’d be unwilling to leave your protector in such a dangerous situation- instincts like that are how our kind has survived.” 

“Look doc,” Stiles say shakily. “I’m sure you’re really knowledgeable or whatever if you’re the Hale omegas’ physician or whatever, but you and I are not the same thing. I have gotten this far into BWT training without fucking up- I don’t know what the hell happened out there!” 

“Look at it this way,” Dr. Sonia says thoughtfully. “You had somebody who has played a significant role in your life in charge of the BWT training. You knew that what they threw at you would be difficult, but at the end of the day the buck stopped with Lord Hale, and part of you trusts him enough to blindly go through this process despite your natural hesitations. Facing an actual enemy is the first time where Lord Hale was not necessarily in total control of the outcome, and that caused you to go into an instinctual survival mode.” 

“So you’re saying I went batshit out there because of Derek?” Stiles says, trying to contain himself. “Because I have some sort of... emotional attachment to Derek?”

“You have known him since you were a child.” Dr. Sonia notes drying. “Is it that out of the realm of possibility that you could have developed feelings for him that would make you uncomfortable seeing him willing to head into enemy custody in exchange for your life?” 

“The panic started before that happened.” Stiles snarls, flustered. “I didn’t want to get on the chopper and leave him out there alone. That was before the thugs showed up.” 

Dr. Sonia looks at Stiles’ patiently. “Our instincts don’t make us weak, Stiles. They are important guidance tools for an omega. You were unwilling to leave your protector- an alpha you know to be strong enough to protect you in our dangerous world. There’s nothing shameful about that.”

“You think if Derek wasn’t there I’d have been able to get on that chopper?” Stiles asks, his eyes darting around a little wildly. 

“It’s likely.” Dr. Sonia says. “But I would also argue you wouldn’t have been able to stay in the conditions of the BWT for this long if Lord Hale wasn’t the commander in charge.”

“Fuck that.” Stiles growls. “So I freaked out because I’m under some omega bullshit subconscious delusion about Derek.” 

Dr. Sonia swallows. “I wouldn’t word it like that, but I think it’s safe to say that this response is specific to Lord Hale, yes.” 

“So, how do I cut that off at the knees?” Stiles asks. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, Stiles-“ Dr. Sonia tries to reason with the grungy, bloody omega. 

“There is everything to worry about!” Stiles snaps. “I almost got Derek killed out there! I cannot be doing any kind of weird omega voodoo out in the field!” 

Dr. Sonia smiles almost sadly. “I’m not sure how much education you were given by other omegas, but I can’t stop you from being human. Nobody is going to be able to stop you from reacting when somebody you've known for a long time is in a traumatic situation.” 

“I’m a BW merc in training!” Stiles hisses at the screen. “I do not have luxury of breaking down and endangering my commander! I’m skating on thin ice as it is, doc!” 

“From what I saw Lord Hale wasn’t in danger, Stiles.” Dr. Sonia replies. “Just as your body had an involuntary response to the situation, so did his. This isn’t a one way street you’re on. I don’t know who taught you that being an omega was a terrible thing, but the alphas have just as many things to deal with in response to us as we have in response to them. It’s nature’s way of ensuring the survival of both our genders and it’s perfectly natural.” 

“Maybe there shouldn’t be omegas, doc.” Stiles says. “If this bullshit is what it takes for us to survive in this barbaric-ass country maybe we shouldn’t be here.” 

“I think you need to calm yourself down, Stiles.” Dr. Sonia says. “Take a shower and please report to Lord Hale if anything more serious comes up with you health-wise. I’ll be in touch.”


	34. Day 44: Guilty

0900 Hours: B17

Stiles exits the med room still shaking slightly. Derek is standing at the intelligence station, leaning into the footage, but Boyd and Laura are no longer on the communication screen. The alpha turns slightly at the noise of Stiles coming back through the doorway. Away from all the screaming chaos of training camp Derek looks exhausted and positively ancient. Stiles can’t remember the last time he a decent night’s sleep or a hot shower, and Derek looks like he could use both as well. The alpha is covered in mud and sweat and Stiles’ blood as well as the blood of the rogue who’d try to take Stiles away. Stiles realizes his own body and clothes are covered in the same violent mixture. 

“What did Sonia say?” Derek asks quietly, his face looking down at some data filling one of the screens. 

“I’m fine.” Stiles says.

“That’s not what I asked.” Derek answers lowly. 

Stiles is sure it’s what the alpha meant, but he doesn’t say anything. The omega walks over to the a sink and runs some water in the basin, wiping down the layer of grime from his face tiredly. 

“When we going to get out of here?” He calls to Derek, his voice sore from all the shouting. 

“Are you hurt?” Derek asks, his face whipping over to look at Stiles. “Is something wrong?” Derek walks over levelly. 

“Nothing’s wrong, commander.” Stiles mutters, reaching for a towel. 

Derek is standing close enough to Stiles that the omega can smell waves of anxiety, and something deeper, more tangible rolling off the alpha. Derek’s face is dark, looking down at Stiles carefully with an inscrutable expression. The alpha is still like he’s worried he’s about to spook Stiles, and yet has a restless sort of wanting energy to his gaze as well. For a long breathless moment Stiles thinks the alpha is going to reach out and touch him, but the alpha just stands there, hovering. 

Finally Stiles throws down the wash rag, irritated, and turns back to Derek. “Goddamnit.” He says. “What is it?” 

The commander is silent for another frustrating moment before he looks down and mumbles, “Would you tell me if you were hurt?” 

Stiles rolls his eyes, not sure what else to do, uncomfortable at the attention, unused to being fussed over. “I’m not going to tell you I feel fucking fantastic, but it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” 

Another long pause, and Stiles wonders if Derek is zoning out on him or if this is just the longest conversation the alpha’s ever had without threatening someone and he’s not sure how it should go. 

“I’ll get you a doctor as soon as I can,” is the soft answer that finally comes. 

Stiles straightens a little. He feels a bit indignant under the scrutiny. “I told you I’m fine.” Stiles says, eyeing the confusing alpha. “I wouldn’t lie.” 

Derek looks down again. “You don’t... you don’t really talk to me.” The commander states. 

Stiles snorts, dabbing at his swollen and torn lips in the mirror. “I can’t imagine what we’d have to talk about.” 

Derek doesn’t respond. He only stands there, watching Stiles while he leans against the wall. After a moment Derek takes the wash rag gently from Stiles’ hand and turns on the tap. He rinses the rag in icy water and gently brings it up to Stiles’ lip, the enormous alpha’s touch as light as a bird’s. Stiles looks up and Derek’s eyes are huge and dark and filled with something unidentifiable and yet potent. Stiles feels something catch in him as he looks at the commander and he turns away quickly, pulling the cold rag with him. 

“I need a fucking shower.” Stiles mutters. 

“There’s one in the other room through there.” Derek says, pointing. 

Stiles looks over at the room. “There isn’t a door on that room.” He says incredulously. 

“This bunker was designed to be a one man station.” Derek says. 

“Whatever.” Stiles rolls his eyes again, limping towards the room, the promise of being clean for the first time in recent memory calling to him louder than any second thoughts about door-less bathrooms. 

He’s almost to the room when he hears Derek say softly, almost as if he’s been hesitating. “You know you’re safe here, right?” 

“Oh sure,” Stiles says. “The guy who cracked my ribs is locked with me in here, but the guys who want to filet me are out there. The best of two shitty options.” 

“I...” Derek is staring at him again with that look again. 

“What?” Stiles asks, turning. “What is it?” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” Derek says, and Stiles finally recognizes the look that’s been plaguing the alpha. Torture. Derek looks down, the alpha is clearly out of his depth and scrambling for purchase. “I never want to hurt you.” 

“You’ve got a hell of a self-discipline problem then.” Stiles laughs humorlessly. “I never got the shit kicked out of me by a guy who was on the fence about it before.” 

“I do have a problem.” Derek says, his voice a little broken. “I’m selfish.” He looks up at Stiles. “I want to keep you. That’s why I did it. They don’t understand what could happen to you out there, not like I do, or maybe they do and they don’t care because having you on the front lines looks good politically, but I care.” Derek’s strong, deep voice trembles a little. “I care and I wanted them to see, I wanted them to know what they were asking of you. I wanted them to have a taste of what they’re asking our soldiers to witness if they let you out on the front lines.” Derek looks back down at his feet. “But it killed me to do it.” 

Stiles shakes his head, deliberately closing his mind and his heart to the alpha’s words. “You don’t get to look like a kicked puppy over this, commander.” Stiles says, making his voice deliberately cold. “You could walk any time and I wouldn’t be your problem anymore.” 

“You’ve been my problem since the day you ran into my leg in Jackal City, Stiles.” Derek says. “I couldn’t walk away from you then and I’m not going to ever be able to- not when I know I have a chance to keep you safe.” 

“I’ve been taking my chances for years- even before I ran into your leg.” Stiles says. “Why can’t you understand?” 

“You thought you could love me once.” Derek says. “One day you’ll remember that again.” 

“What does a merc like you know about shit like that?” Stiles asks, his eyes narrowed.

“I know enough to understand what I feel for you.” Derek says. “And I know that I can’t run from it even when I don’t know what to do and when what I feel for you scares me.”

“Running keeps you alive, Derek.” Stiles says. “You stop running, and it’s game over. I understand enough to keep moving.” He walks into the shower room and turns on the water.


	35. Day 44: Beta Advice

10:00 Hours: B17

The shower water is hot and plentiful and so close to heaven Stiles nearly collapses on the floor. It’s the first real shampoo he’s had access to since coming to Snakehead and he can’t believe how much he’s miss such a simple thing like feeling clean. He towels off with a less than luxurious, but clean towel and wraps it around his waist. When he reaches the door he sees Derek has placed a clean pair of sweat pants and a soft cotton shirt at the door. He puts the clothes on, suddenly feeling the full weight of his exhaustion upon him. He walks out to see Derek putting clean sheets on a soft looking bed off to the side of the intelligence station.

Derek looks up when he sees Stiles enter the room. The alpha nods towards the table. “I put out some food for you.” He grunts.

Stiles almost cries at the sight. Derek has slipped some whole grain frozen rolls into the oven, and cut up a hearty portion of cold smoked salmon on the side.

“Who knew they kept such good food on hand in a bunker.” Stiles says through a gratefully full mouth.

“I stocked this place up before we came out for the exercise.” Derek says. “I was afraid something like this would happen and I’d be stuck out here doing recon. Of course, you're involved so it turned out worse than I ever could have imagined.” He looks down, fluffing up a pillow. “I caught everything in the freezer.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “You caught this bread?” He asks.

Derek rolls his eyes at him and strips off his holster before walking into the shower room. “Tell me if something comes up on the screen.” He says to Stiles. “I’ll only be a moment.”

The alpha emerges a few minutes later wearing a clean shirt and sweat pants, his hair damp. The vapor from the shower room fills the whole bunker with Derek’s clean deep musk smell, and Stiles finds his muscles relaxing a little under the influence of the aroma. Derek is clean, the hideous war paint washed from his face, and for the first time in a long while Stiles is reminded of the stern older teen who used to come over to the McCall’s keep and watch him and Scott play chess silently. Derek always used to bring Stiles candy from America on those visits, a rare treat for the boys.

“What’d I miss?” Derek asks, walking over to Stiles.

“Nothing.” Stiles says, feeling like his stomach is about to burst.

“Did you get enough to eat?” Derek’s voice hovers over Stiles. “I can make more.”

“Nah.” Stiles says sleepily. “I’m about to fall over. I’ve never tasted anything so good in my life.”

“That’s just the hunger talking.” Derek says, but the alpha is flushing a little. “Go to sleep, Stiles.” He motions towards the newly made up bed.

“Are you coming?” Stiles asks, yawning.

“No,” Derek says, sliding the blankets and sheets back for the omega. “I’m going to stay up and keep watch on the intel for a while longer.”

“Alright then.” Stiles murmurs, too tired to keep talking.

Stiles slides into the soft bed, savoring the feeling of a real mattress for the first time in weeks. The bed feels large in place of his cot, but the air around him smells like Derek, and there’s something annoyingly comforting about knowing while their blood-thirsty enemies are above their heads, he and Derek and safely locked in down here, and help is on the way. The exhaustion soon gives way to restlessness as Stiles finds he can’t quite get comfortable for some odd reason. By all logic he should be happily snoring, but the bunker is cold, and Stiles’ can’t seem to get warm. Derek’s scent changes slightly as the alpha rises to retrieve things quietly around the bunker and some insane part of Stiles can’t help but think it’s taunting him. He sighs, tossing fussily in the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Derek’s quiet voice is suddenly over Stiles’ form on the bed. “Are you in pain?”

“Jesus you scared me.” Stiles says reproachfully. “No. I’m okay.”

“Then why aren’t you asleep?” Derek asks, looking concerned.

“I’m cold.” Stiles mutters, rolling over.

Derek makes some kind of sympathetic alpha noise and walks away. Stiles continues tossing and turning, shivering slightly under the covers. Derek returns a few moments later and draped something deliciously warm and heavy over Stiles, tucking it around the omega’s form. Stiles can’t help but let out a moan of absolute pleasure as his body warms up.

“Wha-“ Stiles mumbles.

“I put one of the blankets over the heater for a bit.” Derek says softly, smoothing the blanket around Stiles. “Is that better?”

“Mmmhm.” Stiles murmurs, already feeling himself falling asleep under the Derek’s watchful eye.

1200 Hours: B17

When Stiles wakes, some delicious smell is filling the bunker. The warmth has worn off the blanket and Stiles finds himself shivering again. His whole body is stiff and bruised after the events of the previous day, and he rolls over grumpily, eyeing Derek from under the covers. The commander is sitting at the table with a mug staring up at the video screen. A beautiful blonde beta in rich clothing and fine jewelry is on the screen speaking to the alpha in a hushed tone.

“Have you told him?” The pretty beta asks softly.

Derek looks exhaustedly up at the screen. “Of course not.” He says.

“You need to tell him, Derek.” The blonde says. “It’s not fair to me.”

Who was this beautiful high born beta and what secret was she keeping for Derek? Stiles doesn’t think he’s supposed to be listening to Derek talk to a noble woman without the alpha knowing, but his curiosity is peaked. It’s never occurred to Stiles that Derek had any personal friends beyond Boyd, let alone attractive beta ones.

“It will just upset him, and you know how much of a pain in the ass he is when he’s upset.” Derek says. He eyes the blonde. “You are not to say anything.”

“Are you questioning my loyalty to you?” The blonde looks hurt. “I know I wasn’t born into your tribe, Derek, but I would never betray you.”

“Love does... strange things to a person’s sense of honor.” Derek murmurs darkly.

Something is flaring in Stiles, something indignant at this whole weird-ass conversation. It’s completely irrational. What does Stiles care about what the commander gets up to. He probably has all kinds of secrets and attractive betas keeping said secrets. Stiles doesn’t care. Who said anything about caring?

“You are my leader and my friend.” The blonde says emphatically. “You didn’t just call me for some kind of confession, Derek. What’s really troubling you?”

“My omega...” Derek trails off looking upset. “Well, I’m starting to think he’s...”

“Not on board with the marriage?” The blonde prompts softly.

“No!” Derek scowls. “Who told you that? Did Boyd say something?”

“He might have mentioned something along those lines.” The blonde says, flushing. “I’m sure I just misunderstood.”

“What did he say?” Derek growls.

“Derek-“

“Erica!”

“Well,” Erica, apparently her name is Erica, looks a little pale. “He might have said something like, Have you noticed Stiles really hates Derek and not in the ‘I-hate-you-because-you’re-so-challenging-but-you’re-making-me-a-better-person-through-it-all-so-I-secretly-love-you-for-it’ kind of hate but more in the ‘I-hate-you-so-much-I-wish-the-earth-was-flat-so-I-could-run-to-the-end-of-the-world-and-throw-myself-off-it-whenever-I-see-you” sort of hate.”

Derek glares at the table. “Well that’s one opinion.”

“Forgive me, Derek,” Erica says, “But you don’t look happy. And you know, happy wife, happy life. Look at Boyd.”

“The only things that seem to make Stiles happy are vaguely suicidal in nature, so... no to that.” Derek grouses.

“Derek, I don’t think it’s in an omegas nature to be reasonable about ‘things’ anymore than it’s in an alpha’s nature to be reasonable about their mates.” Erica says. “Us betas are the only ones with common sense. If it weren’t for us Westenra would be Yemen.” She sniffs. “But common sense can also be limiting. I doubt very much you and Stiles would be engaged at all if you were both betas.”

“He just, he doesn’t seem happy...” Derek mutters.

“Is one supposed to be happy in BWT?” Erica asks.

“I mean, with me.” Derek sighs. “And before you say anything- he wasn’t happy before all the crap hit the fan. I guess that’s why I called you. I want to know how to... make this better for him. Our betrothal, I mean. It should be a happier time for him.”

“You could disband the BW.” Erica snorts. “But short of that, I don’t know what would make your mate happier, Derek. Is he safe?”

“Of course.”

“Well fed?”

“Right now, yes. I’ve got stew cooking for when he wakes up.”

“I assume you’re affectionate towards him.” Erica says.

“Our circumstances don’t really allow us to get that close to each other.” Derek mumbles.

“And by circumstances, do you mean your personalities?” Erica asks dryly.

“I have a very affectionate personality.” Derek grunts.

“I believe you believe that.” Erica says with a sad smile.

“It’s Stiles who's prickly.” Derek grumbles.

“Maybe you should talk about it?” Erica offers.

“I just gave him a black eye and a few cracked ribs. I highly doubt he’s in the mood to talk.” Derek says dully.

“Omegas are always in the mood to talk.” Erica says knowingly. “You may not like what they have to say, but they’re always ready to talk.”

“We can’t just... I don’t know... kiss and make up?” Derek mutters, looking down and flushing.

“You can’t just crawl back into bed with someone after beating the hell out of them.” Erica looks at Derek judgmentally.

Derek flushes an even deeper color, and under the blankets Stiles feels himself blushing too. “We don’t... I mean, we don’t sleep together.” The alpha admits lowly.

“Right.” Erica says. “Because you’re in training- you know what I meant.”

“No-“ Derek clarifies. “I mean, ever. We haven’t really gotten around to that... physical aspect of our relationship.” Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen the commander looking more uncomfortable.

Erica’s eyes widen. “Ever?!” She squeaks.

“I’ve been on missions and away for a long time.” Derek shrugs. “It’s never... felt like the right time.”

“Ahuh.” Erica looks confused. “And you’re getting married.”

“Of course.” Derek nods.

“Well maybe you should talk about why you haven’t slept together yet.” Erica offers cautiously. “Sounds like a good question to ask. Sounds like you should know the answer to that one. Omegas, from what I know, don’t really like sleeping alone. I never in a million years thought that Stiles wasn’t living out of Blackden with you and Boyd by now.” She sighs, looking upset. “That poor boy. I can’t imagine being alone like that surrounded by alpha soldiers. How upsetting.”

“Well, it’s not like I want to be sleeping apart from him. It’s not like I want him to even be here. I don’t want to be here.” Derek says. “I want to be on missions with Boyd and Stiles to be at my keep in my bed where Laura can keep an eye on him, not roaming the countryside like a walking buffet for rogues.”

“You have... interesting tastes in omegas, Derek.” Erica says.

“Hey, I love him.” Derek counters. “He’s an amazing little shit and a total pain in the ass freak of nature and we’re going to be happy together!”

“Right.” Erica says. “Well, so long as you understand each other.”

“I might not understand him,” Derek says. “But one day I will. And I’m not going to give up on our marriage just because he has weird career choices and I never know what to say to him. People make mistakes- it’s part of marriage. But at the end of the day we love each other and we’re going to figure this out together.”

“I had no idea you were such an idealist.” Erica says. “Now, I shouldn’t tell you this, but your sister has some horrid plans for you and Stiles when you come home for Christmas- oh!” The video picture of Erica is pointing down behind the alpha’s soldier. “I do believe your omega has awoken. Hello, sleeping beauty!”


	36. Day 44: Bickering

“Who are you?” Stiles asks, climbing out of bed. He almost falls on the floor, the stiffness of his muscles setting in. Derek’s up from the table and on Stiles, helping him up immediately. “I’m fine, Lancelot!” Stiles shoots an annoyed look at Derek. 

“Oh my god, Derek!” The blonde creature on the screen gasps. “What did you to him?!”

Derek winces audibly. “I told you things got heated.” 

“Derek and I had a disagreement about my career aptitude.” Stiles says, glaring at the commander. “He thinks I would be better suited to the domestic sciences. I disagree.” 

“And here I thought the argument was about national security...” Derek mutters, glaring back. 

“Who is this beta?” Stiles asks again.

“I’m Lady Erica Reyes, Stiles.” The blonde offers with a sweet smile. “I’m Commander Boyd’s future mate.”

Stiles eyes Derek. “He has better taste than you.” 

Derek glares back. “Again. We disagree.” 

“That one,” Stiles motions towards the screen, “hast maternal written all over her. I do not enjoy children.”

“You will enjoy our children.” Derek mutters.

“I do not enjoy hypotheticals.” Stiles corrects. “For example, what are these horrid hypothetical plans Lady Hale has for Derek and me?” 

“She is planning to have the two of you visit America together when you’re home on leave.” Erica confesses. “She thinks it’ll be good for the international community to see an omega in a military position.” 

“I do not want to go to the land of fatassery.” Stiles says. “And I definitely do not want the international community to watch me be a tourist there.”

“And I don’t want him to go there either, or for anyone to be watching him at all.” Derek grumbles.

“You cannot police who looks at me, Derek.” Stiles snorts. “And you shouldn’t want to either.” 

“Why do you make everything so hard?” Derek asks, shooting an annoyed look at Stiles.

“It’s your sister who wants us to pull the Kate and Will thing here, Derek.” Stiles argues back. “I just want to finish what I started.” 

“The Kate and Will thing is part of finishing what we started.” Derek says. 

“No, it’s part of finishing what you started.” Stiles corrects, rolling his eyes. “What we did this morning was part of effectively ending what I started. Nice try.” 

“This isn’t funny, Stiles.” Derek says. 

“Who’s laughing?” Stiles shoots back. 

“I don’t think either of you will really have a choice about this,” Erica offers, looking uncomfortable. “We all have to do diplomatic tours. It’s part of tribe life.” 

“I figured I would just stay on base over the holidays.” Stiles says. 

“That’s not happening.” Derek says darkly.

“Nobody asked you.” Stiles grumbles.

“That’s right.” Derek says. “Laura didn’t ask me about my plans either. But we all have to do things we don’t want to do.” 

“You don’t!” Stiles argues. “You do whatever you want. You just steam roll over everyone else’s plans. You came to Snakehead and took over training because you wanted to, you’ve been running around like fucking Rambo because you want to, and you’ve taken over my life, because you want to. You kicked the shit out of Lord Cutter’s kid because it's what you wanted. Alphas do whatever the hell they want, whenever they want and I won’t be part of that shit, Derek. I am sick of feeling like the deviant here because I just want to live like a normal person.”

“You don’t want to live like a normal person!” Derek says. “A normal person considers what effects he has on his community. I know things aren’t ideal for you here, but I’m trying to make things work. You’re just trying to make waves. I get that you’re upset. I get that things haven’t always been fair- but you’re going to get yourself killed, Stiles. And that is a price I can’t pay. I refuse to let things go that far. Stop cutting off your nose to spite your face.” 

“It’s my nose and it’s my face.” Stiles snarls back. “If I want to ugly it up, that’s my business.”

“No man is an island!” Derek argues. “Particularly not here in Westenra. There are people who love you, Stiles. People who depend on you. Like it or not you’re part of a community here. You have responsibilities to the tribes, to the country, to me, and to yourself. Why do you keep fighting?” 

“I was born fighting, Derek. I had a whole life before you, before the tribes, before the BW. And I will hate myself if I stop fighting now. The fact that you don’t understand why this is important, just proves my point.” Stiles turns, stalks into the med room and slams the door. 

“It’s just Christmas, Stiles!” He hears Erica yelling after him. “Everyone hates being with their relatives at Christmas! It’s not that bad!”


	37. Day 44: Everything We Were

1200 Hours: B17

The moment Stiles slams the door shut he leans back on it, sighing, his arms folded tightly over his chest. He stays like that for a moment, glaring at the wall, before he starts at the sound of Derek rapping on the door. 

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice is slightly muffled. “Come out here.”

Stiles’ glare at the wall only intensifies. The omega keeps his mouth shut firmly, a little afraid of what would come out were he to open it and unleash all the pent up anger and frustration of the last few weeks. 

“Come on, Stiles.” Derek says. “I know you’re upset. Don’t you think this is a little juvenile?” 

Stiles scowls. So now Mr. Punch First Ask Questions Never is ready to be all mature about this sham of an engagement? Now he’s decided to learn how to use his words? Once again, everything is on the alpha’s schedule. Stiles looks around the med room, six feet under- maybe more. Enemies above him. Hell below him. Derek at the door. Stiles has never quite felt more trapped by his gender, by his lot in life. 

“Stiles, please.” The alpha’s voice calls. “Let’s talk about this.” 

“Go away!” Stiles yells at the door, his hard eyes boring angrily into the metal. 

“No.” Derek says back. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you, Stiles. We need to learn to work this out.”

Furious and suddenly at his limit, Stiles kicks the door open, startling Derek. The smaller omega rounds on the large alpha, his eyes flashing. 

“You never quit do you, you animal?!” Stiles shouts at Derek. “I will never understand the way your fucking mind works! Is it that much of a power trip for you to keep me caged in a life I don’t fucking want? Do you get off on knowing you have me pinned and I have no power in this situation? Or did you not even consider what I wanted? Did you think an omega couldn’t possibly have an opinion about how he’d like to spend the rest of his life? Was that it, Derek? You just don’t give a fuck.” 

Derek blinks at Stiles dumbly, looking genuinely lost. “What are you talking about Stiles?” Derek says. “If you’re that upset about America I can talk to Laura-“ 

“Yeah.” Stiles snorts sarcastically. “This is really about America, Derek. I don’t give a shit about America. America is just one more symptom of the main fucking problem here!”

“Look,” Derek says, his face a little caved in, “I know I’ve been angry since you started training. It’s not me. It’s the way things are in the military, I thought you understood that-“ 

“Derek-” Stiles turns and stares at the alpha, eyes wide and frustrated and filled with ire. “This isn’t about BWT. This isn’t about the hardass role you play on the front lines.” 

“Then why are you so upset?” Derek asks, and the alpha looks so utterly lost and confused Stiles almost thinks it’s an act. “Whatever it is, we’ll talk through it-“

“No, we are not going to talk through this, Derek!” Stiles spouts off, exasperated. “We are not going to talk through it, because no matter what I say to you, you keep insisting that we get married!” 

Derek blinks and then takes a step closer to the angry omega. “Well, yeah.” Derek says. “We’re engaged. That’s what engaged couples do. That’s the point.”

“We are not engaged!” Stiles says, throwing up his hands. “We were never engaged! Contrary to what all of you lunatics think, it takes two people to be engaged! I never agreed to mate with you! I never agreed to marry you! I didn’t even consider it as a possibility until the morning I found out I was accepted into the BWT. And guess what? It’s not going to happen! I am not okay with this and I will never be okay with it! You and I are never going to get married, Derek!” It all comes out in a rush of frustrated rage, Stiles is ranting by the end of it, pacing and throwing exaggerated looks at the dumbfounded alpha. 

“You don’t mean that.” Derek says, watching the raving omega with eyes that are getting larger by the moment. “You’re just upset because of what happened today. I’m sorry. I told you I’m sorry. We can talk about this-“ 

“I don’t give a fuck about what happened today!” Stiles exclaims. “You think you’re the first alpha to beat the shit out of me?! I was pretty dead set against this marriage before I even got to BWT. Why do you think I even signed up with the BW? I’ve been plotting ways to avoid being mated since I was fifteen, Derek! No amount of talking is going to change my mind. It’s not going to happen. I would go AWOL and take my chances with the rogues before I would be mated.”

“You’re just angry.” Derek says, walking towards Stiles now, reaching out to the omega with a look of half-dazed panic on his face. “You’re tired and you’re saying things you don’t mean. It’s okay, I understand.” Derek reaches out to touch Stiles on the shoulder gently, only to have the omega jerk away. “You’re safe with me here, Stiles. It’s okay for you to be scared or upset. I’m here for you-“ 

“I am not scared or upset, Derek.” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “I am frustrated as hell because you’re not listening to me. We are not engaged. I don’t care what the contract says or what you say or what the tribes say- I will find a way out of this or die trying. Either way, it’s not going to happen. We are not going to happen.”

Derek is starting to look less confused and more hurt now, his face is growing darker, and slowly filling with pain. “Why are you saying these things, Stiles?” He asks, his voice speeding in growing desperation. “Are you trying to hurt me? I deserve it, I know. I haven’t been a good alpha to you, but I’ve just been trying to keep you and the other soldiers safe. Can’t you understand? I haven’t always known what to do but I’m willing to try something different. Tell me what you need and I’ll make it better.” Derek crouches down in front of the omega, searching Stiles cold eyes hungrily. 

“Derek,” Stiles says slowly. “There is nothing on earth you could do to make me happy about you and the tribes forcing me into mating with you. I don’t want it. I don’t want you.”

“We’ve known each other such a long time, Stiles.” Derek says pleadingly. “Who could take better care of you than me? I’m the one who has always loved you. I know I haven’t been around all the time to care for you the way I should have. I know, I’ve been away on missions far too often, but I’ve tried. You’ve always been on my mind, all this time. I’ve never gone a day without thinking of you, I promise. Let me fix this. Tell me how.” 

“You can’t fix something that never was, Derek.” Stiles says firmly. “And you and I were never really a thing- ever. I can’t imagine anything worse than being caged in as someone’s omega.” 

“You don’t mean that.” Derek repeats softly. “You’re tired-“

“I’m not tired.” 

“Don’t do this, Stiles.” Derek says, his voice broken. “Don’t say these things. I love you, Stiles. I love you and you love me. I know you do. I know nobody can love you like I can and there’s nobody for me but you. I’ve known all along. I can’t stand to see you look at me like that.”

“I don’t love you, Derek. And you don’t love me.” Stiles says, his shoulders slumping. All of a sudden his anger has left him, leaving only bitterness and the infinite frustration. “Alphas like you don’t know what loving an omega is. All you know is about owning one.” Stiles sighs. “I’m not trying to hurt you- not really. I’m stating the truth here. I don’t intend to mate with you. And I’m letting you know- I will find a way out.”

“You’re angry with me.” Derek says quietly, standing up and shaking his head to himself. “I understand that. You never wanted to be an omega and you never wanted to be in this position. I know that you feel like you don’t have choices, and I know life has been cruel to you. I know I’ve been cruel to you too. I’ve wished it could have been someone else. I wished it wasn’t me who had to be your enemy in this- that someone else could have done what I needed to do.” Derek looks up at Stiles, broken. “Hurting you was the last thing ever I wanted. I didn’t want to be your jailer. I only wanted to protect you. I deserve your anger, your disgust.” Derek swallows, the alpha’s eyes are a little wet, but not yet spilling over into tears. “But don’t ever say I don’t love you. You don’t know the way I love you. And that’s my fault. It’s my fault for not being able to show you the way I should. I wish I could convince you otherwise, but I know you, and I know you’re going to do whatever you feel you need to do. But I want you to remember I love you. Through all of this- I’ve loved you.” Derek turns and climbs the stairs to the upper level of the bunker, going into another door and closing it behind him.


	38. Day 44: What's Left

1200 Hours: B17

Derek’s body is still as stone as he closes the door behind him, leaving his omega, the one person he’s long considered his entire world behind below. Derek wonders if he’s breathing at all, if the pain coursing through him in endless waves is physical, if he’s falling apart cell by cell. Derek has never considered what his life would be without Stiles. He had never thought it was a possibility. Derek had been wrecked when his parents had died. He’d felt lost and alone, the full brunt force of his responsibilities towards his sisters and his tribe threatening to crush him completely, leaving a cold killer in place of where a boy had once lived and laughed and loved. Derek had rebuilt his world around Stiles. The lively, stubborn omega had become the embodiment of Derek’s hopes and dreams for a new family, a new future. And Derek had loved the omega openly and optimistically and unabashedly from day one, even as he had battled his way through their bleak world as a child soldier. Now, hearing Stiles’ words, Derek felt as though he’d been told the sun had set for the last time, and would never rise again. Everything in his world had changed, and in that, it had all ended. There is clarity in pain. There is certainty in heartbreak. Derek knows what he needs to do and it leaves him broken.

Derek turns to his wrist communication device and dials his sister on it. Laura answers right away, sitting at her desk, her beautiful face searching his anxiously as she comes on the screen. 

“Derek!” Laura says, alarmed at her brother’s pallid face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Laura.” Derek breaths, his whole being aching. “Hi. I... I need to talk to you about something.” 

“What is it?” Laura demands. “You look terrible.”

“Everything is... fine.” Derek says, taking a breath. “We’re okay.”

“Then what is it?” Laura asks. 

“I... I need to break off the engagement.” Derek says softly. 

“What?!” Laura exclaims, clearly shocked. “Why? What happened?!” 

“I...” Derek is having trouble finding words through his overwhelming emotions. “I just need to do it, okay?”

“Why?” Laura repeats, her face close to the screen. “You’ve been set on Stiles since you were children! I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either.” Derek whispers, miserable. “Just... it can’t continue.”

“I thought you were utterly in love with him.” Laura says. 

“I am.” Derek says, horrible tears falling down his face. “I do love him. I do.” Derek swallows. “That’s why we have to end this.”

“Oh Derek.” Laura sighs. “What’s this about?”

“Stiles doesn’t want this.” Derek says. “He... he’s so angry, Laura. I don’t think... I don’t know if we can get past this. He doesn’t trust me anymore. I can’t force this on him. I can’t do it...”

“Derek, nothing is beyond fixing.” Laura says softly. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding-“ 

“No.” Derek says. “He feels trapped. By this. By me. He’s hurting and I can’t watch him be like this, Laura. I can’t be the cause of his misery anymore. Please... I can’t do it anymore.” 

“Derek, I think you’re being rash. It isn’t like you to be so emotional. You’re frightening me.” Laura looks pale.

“I’m sorry.” Derek says through his tears. “I’m not trying to upset you. I just need you to call the engagement off.” 

“I can’t do that.” Laura says. “We’ve made so much progress in the international community. They view your marriage to the first BW omega as a sign of social progress and stability for us. This is important, Derek. That’s why you have to go talk to the American media. Don’t you know what this could mean for our people?” 

“I understand that, Laura.” Derek says sadly. “But this is Stiles’ life we’re talking about. I can’t keep doing this to him. Please don’t make me keep hurting him. Please.” 

Laura sighs. “Calm down, Derek. It’ll be okay.” She looks a bit flustered. “Okay, how about this- you and Stiles come back for Christmas and you do the American tour. You’ll give the interview like we planned. After you come home I’ll publically call off your engagement. We cannot do it before then- I’m sorry. I have a billion dollars in aid on the line here. I have to think about our people.” 

Derek frowns deeply. “Is that the best you can do?” He asks. 

“I’m afraid so.” Laura says. “Please, just wait until after America. I’ll give you what you ask after that- if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Derek whispers. “It has to be this way.”

“Okay.” Laura sighs. “I’ll draw up the papers. You cannot tell Stiles until after America, Derek.” Laura looks at him sternly. “I can’t risk the international community calling bullshit on this. There’s too much at stake. You can’t tell him.” 

“Okay.” Derek agrees numbly. “But when we come home you have to cancel the engagement. I can’t keep doing this to him.” 

“I promise.” Laura says. “I love you, Derek. If this is what you really want, I’ll make it happen.”

“Thank you.” Derek whispers. “I love you too.” 

“Take care of yourself,” Laura says sadly. “I’ll have a team out to get you within the next day. Be well until then.” 

“I’ll be fine, Laura.” Derek sighs. “Don’t worry about me.”


	39. Yule: Covert Allies

Stiles isn’t sure what he’d been expecting following their argument, but what ended up happening hadn’t been it. Derek was an alpha, a commander, the Dark Prince of Westenra- he wasn’t exactly known for patience or an even temper. Stiles had been expecting anger, fury, to be thrown against a wall at the very least. Some kind of ugly fallout. What he got was a brooding silence. Derek had come down to prepare food silently, all but ignoring the omega. He’d disappear immediately after the cooking and cleaning was done, and return to the second floor room of the bunker. Stiles didn’t know if the alpha was trying to psych him out, or what exactly was going on, but he accepted the tentative cease fire between them. At least all the parties involved knew where things stood. Derek might be still unwilling to break their marriage contract, but at least he’d been warned as to where Stiles stood on the matter. 

There rescue came a day later. A small army took back Snakeass Wood, driving the rogues from the training area and reaffirming the security of the area. Derek had spent that day barking orders at the intel system and pacing around. Stiles had sat on the bed quietly, icing his face on and off. He was still sore all over, but he knew he would recover and live to fight on another day. Boyd had come in a chopper had taken the two of them back to Snakehead HQ, and Derek had been watchful but silent throughout the entire journey. Boyd had watched both of them with careful solemnity, looking concerned and on edge. The other officers as HQ seemed infinitely relieved to have Derek and Stiles back in safely, but the happiness was subdued. It seemed the high command hadn’t gotten much sleep throughout the siege. Stiles had seen Boyd and Derek speaking in low voices after they’d gotten to HQ, and Boyd had looked upset. Derek had been almost non-responsive, and Stiles wondered vaguely what was eating at the commander, but he soon put it out of his mind as he gathered his things and boarded a chopper back to the McCall keep. Derek had watched him go silently, not even bidding him goodbye or threatening him or any of his usual Derek moves, but Stiles was too excited to go home to think much of it. 

Scott had been enthusiastic as a puppy to have his childhood playmate home. He’d hugged Stiles so hard upon sight, Stiles had let out a noise of pain and pushed the other alpha off him roughly. Scott was Stiles best friend and as good as it was to see the friendly face again, Stiles found he really didn’t want Scott getting too close to him. Scott was goofy and friendly and his oldest pal, but the McCall heir was still an alpha, and he smelled like one. After spending days cooped up in the bunker with Derek, Stiles knew he smelled like him, and he found the scent vaguely comforting, almost nourishing in a weird way. Stiles found he didn’t want the scent to be covered by the smell of another alpha regardless of who it was. Stile slept for nearly the first twenty-four hours straight, rising only to scarf down some food from the kitchens and go to the bathroom. He was tired and worn to his core. The keep felt too loud, too big, and uncontrolled in comparison to the environment in training. Every scent here was strong and Stiles spent most of his time alone in his room, laying on his bed, startling at every noise outside his door. He’d half expected Derek to come to the keep sometime in the first twenty-four hours to check up on him, maybe to make sure Stiles hadn’t flown the coop, but the alpha never showed. Scott poked his head in every few hours, but Stiles always batted the alpha away. He didn’t want another alpha’s scent nearby. He didn’t want to risk being touched. Stiles particularly didn’t want to answer any questions about how his face and body got so fucked up. Mostly, Stiles just wanted to sleep. 

After two horizontal days moping around his room, Stiles is roused by Lady McCall coming into his room with a tuxedo in her arms. 

“Get up, Stiles.” She says briskly. “You need to go shower. We’re going to the ball at the Hale’s keep tonight.”

“Do I have to?” Stiles groans into his pillow.

“Afraid so.” Lady McCall smiles sympathetically. “I know you’re still exhausted, but all the tribe nobles will be there and it won’t do to have you missing from the festivities. This is the first time you and Lord Hale will be formally attending an event since your betrothal.” 

“Lame.” Stiles moans, but gets up anyways. 

The Hale keep is filled with more security than Stiles has ever seen, even at Snakehead. The Hale’s keep is the largest and most luxurious in the country, a towering fortress a the center of a fast collection of multi-family houses and small businesses. The entire warren is surrounded by thick stone walls and there are armed guards at every turn. The Hales can afford luxuries shipped in from Laura’s international contacts that Stiles has never seen in Westenra before. The Hale tribe has livestock, a creamery, multiple cobblers and artisans, and collectives of students studying medicine and international affairs. The Hale keep is covered in festive decorations. Uniformed attendants dot the palace carrying silver trays of delectable food. Piles of warm clothes, canned goods, and books are stacked up in the front to be dispersed amongst the tribe’s children. After a lifetime of casual clothes and a few weeks in fatigues Stiles feels distinctly uncomfortable in this designer suit. His face hasn’t quite healed yet, and Lady McCall had attacked him earlier with heaps of makeup, but it hadn’t been able to completely turn him back into his normal self. Stiles had never attended tribal events growing up. Scott and his parents had often dressed in glamourous clothing and been whisked away to various courts within the other tribes’ territories during the holidays, but Stiles had never been invited to mingle with the nobles of other tribes. When they enter the grand foyer of the Hale’s home Stiles is taken aback at the sheer opulence of the keep. Everywhere there are noble men and women wearing heaps of designer clothing. All of the CM’s highest officers are present at this event with their mates and children. On a raised dias there is a string quartet playing while a beautiful beta sings lowly. 

Stiles is so not in the mood. Scott runs off to greet some noblemen from another tribe almost immediately and all Stiles wants to do is find a bathroom and hide. He slinks into a dark corner by a potted fern, trying to look inconspicuous, trying to avoid scenting out a familiar alpha. 

About fifteen feet away from Stiles’ hiding place a petite redheaded alpha swathed in sapphire silk is laughing harmoniously with a glass of champagne in her delicate gloved hand. Her curls are tossed up elegantly on the top of her head, diamond sparkling from her ears- the picture of a noble lady. Her expensive perfume drifts into Stiles’ nose and it smells like money, itself. There is something else too. Something that makes Stiles start and look over at the laughing alpha again- something familiar. The alpha turns from her group of fawning admirers and her smile is dazzling. She looks around for half a moment before alighting upon Stiles and she runs over to him quickly, nearly shoving noble betas over in her haste to get to him. 

“Stiles!” She squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. “I thought I smelled you!” 

“Lady Martin,” Stiles hisses into the perfumed beauty. “Stop it! People will see!”

“That’s what a ball is for, silly!” She coos. “I am so sorry, Stiles! I never thought this would happen.” 

“Hey,” Stiles says, nervously looking around. “Stop being so loud and everything is forgiven. It was my fault too.” 

“I was so worried!” Lady Martin apparently doesn’t know how to be quiet when she’s not on duty. “I was so relieved when they brought you back safely!”

“Ixnay on the squealing.” Stiles hisses. “Somebody will see me!” 

“Stiles, fraternizing isn’t a thing at a ball.” Lady Martin laughs. 

“I don’t really care about that.” Stiles says nervously. “I’m trying to avoid attention.”

“Is this about your engagement?” Martin says, one eyebrow up. “Yes, I found out about that. You idiot! Why didn’t you tell me?!” She smacks him lightly.

Stiles peers anxiously at the betas and omegas who are staring at him with envious interest. “It didn’t seem relevant.” He mutters, turning red.

“How is it not relevant that you’re going to be mated to our commander?!” Martin asks. “To commander Derek Hale, no less!” 

“Well...” Stiles flushes. “I mean...”

“Oh my god!” Martin gasps. She looks around quickly suddenly before pulling him into an alcove. She looks up, studying Stiles closely. “You don’t want to do this, do you? You’re looking for a way out. That’s why you joined the BW!”

Stiles glances around nervously. “That’s not it.” 

“Don’t lie to me again!” Martin hisses. 

“Okay- that’s sort of it.” Stiles admits quietly. “Don’t try to talk me out of this-“ 

“Stiles!” Martin hisses looking hurt. “I’m not going to try to talk you out of anything. You’re my brother in arms. How can you think I wouldn’t want you to be happy?”

“You’re-“ Stiles starts, grappling for the words. 

“I’m what?” Martin demands. “An alpha?” 

“Yes,” Stiles says, feeling embarrassed. “And you’re friends with Derek.” 

“I’m friends with you too.” Martin says. “And I don’t think anyone should force you to do anything you don’t want to do- no matter how high up they are on the chain of command.” She looks around deviously. “You have a plan to get out of this? I heard they’re sending you two to America on a publicity thing.”

“They are.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “If I’m able to achieve BW status I might be able to get enough political capital to dissuade them from this whole mating thing.” 

“Jesus.” Martin sighs. “Have you... well...”

“What?” Stiles asks.

“Have you tried talking to Derek about this? He’s... well, I just can’t see him forcing you into this.” Martin says hesitantly. “It doesn’t sound like him.” 

“Derek is communication adverse on the marriage issue.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Trust me- I’m not going to get sympathy from the high command on this.” 

“Well,” Martin looks speculative. “We may have to start thinking about a plan B then.”

“We?” Stiles raises his eyebrows. 

“You’re my bro, Stiles.” Martin smiles. “Bros don’t let bros get roped into arranged marriages. I’ll think about this. The Martin tribe isn’t without its resources.” 

“I’m hoping to be able to use the normal channels to get this done.” Stiles mutters back. 

“Well, just in case.” Martin smirks. “You have an ally in me.” She makes a sympathetic noise, reaching out to cup Stiles’ face. “You look terrible, doll.” 

“Lady Martin, you always fraternize with the best omegas.” A familiar voice drawls in a warm tone. “Might I cut in?” 

Stiles and Martin turn to see Cutter smiling at them, large and resplendent in his dress blacks.


	40. Yule: Cut In

“Lord Cutter,” Lady Martin says with a smile. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You don’t look nearly as hideous as usual.” 

“Thank you, Lady Martin.” Cutter smiles dashingly. “They say, I clean up good.” 

“You’re okay.” Stiles snorts, laughing. “But you’re a regular dog in comparison to Lady Martin, here.” 

“That’s not a fair comparison,” Cutter chuckles good naturedly. “But I must say when I saw her talking to the most beautiful omega in the room it got my competitive side going.” He winks at Stiles boldly. 

“Cutter, you flirt!” Martin laughs. “I’d watch myself if I were you. We’re on Hale territory, you know.” 

Cutter frowns. “That brute of a commander is welcome to come at me anytime.” He nods at Stiles. “No disrespect intended, Stilinski.”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m sure Lord Hale is busy with his guests tonight. I highly doubt brawling is on the itinerary of official events.” He makes a face. “That’s not an invitation to start anything.” 

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” Cutter grins. “But allow me a dance, Stilinski.” He holds out a hand to the omega. “You shouldn’t be without company on a night like tonight.” 

Stiles is hesitant. He doesn’t wish to draw any more attention to himself tonight than he’s already had. He’s yet to see Derek tonight and part of him is desperately curious to see the alpha. Another part of Stiles is dreading it completely. He feels somewhat paralyzed and anxious. 

The alphas must be reading his discomfort because Martin sticks out her hand and touches Stiles’ sleeve. “Go dance, Stiles. Have some fun. Derek can’t kill anyone in front of all these witnesses... I don’t think.” 

“I wish he’d try.” Cutter mutters, leading Stiles out on the parquet floor, amidst the glittering dancers. 

Cutter’s large hand is warm on Stiles’ back as they begin to sway in swell of the music. Stiles clamps down on his sudden urge to push his friend away. Cutter’s scent is potent- strong and masculine, like gunpowder and black tea, but it’s foreign and frightening in some abstract way. Cutter’s handsome face smiles down easily at Stiles, clearly misinterpreting Stiles’ anxiety. 

“Calm down, Stilinski.” Cutter chuckles, low in his throat. “Your alpha wouldn’t begrudge you a dance.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Stiles answers lamely. 

Cutter sighs, easily leading them in and out of the melody, clearly a practiced dancer. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” The alpha asks, his grey eyes fixed on Stiles. 

Stiles looks down. “I didn’t want anyone to look at me any differently. I just wanted to be another soldier.”

Cutter laughs softly. “Stiles, you could never just be another soldier.” 

“You know what I mean.” Stiles mutters, flushing. 

“I know it’s not my place but...” Cutter sighs. “I hope he treats you better than what we’ve seen.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say to that. He feels a bit burnt out and too full of everything at the same time. He swallows and looks down at his feet, his whole body feeling leaden. 

“He...” Stiles starts, unsure. 

“Hey,” Cutter says, reaching out and tipping Stiles chin up, making the omega look at him. “You okay?”

Stiles doesn’t know. He doesn’t like Cutter questioning him about Derek, asking him questions he can’t answer. He doesn’t like Cutter in his space. He knows the alpha doesn’t mean harm, but his scent is all over Stiles and it makes him feel deeply uneasy. Stiles tips his chin out of Cutter’s grasp gently. 

“There’s something you don’t know about Derek.” Stiles says softly. “He and I have a history together. I trust him in a weird way. He’s not always easy to understand, but he’s not going to hurt me.” 

Cutter bares his teeth. “He’s already hurt you.” The alpha seethes.

Stiles stills, stopping his swaying in the middle of the dance floor. “That was work.” 

“I don’t care.” Cutter says. “I don’t care if he had a gun to his head- he shouldn’t have done that to you. You’re an omega!”

“I am a soldier!” Stiles corrects angrily. “And I can take a hell of a lot more than that. Derek has his reasons for things and so do I.” 

“I can’t believe you’re making excuses for that bastard!” Cutter snaps. 

“Shit happens in training just like it does on the front lines.” Stiles says, trying to keep his voice down. “I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for the BW. I was given an objective that day, the same as you, the same as Derek. All three of us did exactly what we were supposed to do. That’s how it works.” 

“How can you put up with that?” Cutter hisses. “He has no respect for you! Look at him-“ Stiles and Cutter both turn to see Derek watching them keenly from the stairs. “That barbarian would kill me for looking at you- he’d kill you too. You really want to be with that kind of asshole? You have options out there-”

“This is not your decision to make.” Stiles counters. “This is my life. This isn’t about your alpha pride. Just because I’m an omega doesn’t mean I can’t gage a situation for myself. I see things as clearly as you do- maybe even clearer because I have more information. I don’t need you or anybody else trying to save me from my own judgement.” Stiles turns and walks off the dance floor.


	41. Yule: Winter

Stiles stalks out angrily on to a balcony overlooking the Hale gardens. The night is crisp and frigid around the omega, but after the suffocating heat of the ballroom, filled with too many people and too many scents, the cold is welcome. Stiles leans on the balcony, looking out into the Westenra stars, watching his breath catch in the winter wind. He sighs feeling empty and alone in the world. 

Stiles hears the footsteps and smells the familiar scent but doesn’t turn around. He can sense the commander five feet behind him, watching, waiting. 

“Are you here to chew me out for letting Cutter touch your property?” Stiles asks bitterly out into the night, feeling his back stiffen just a little. He takes a deep inhale of the alpha’s scent, pure and potent now they’re alone. 

“I thought you might be cold.” Derek’s voice is low and welcome like the face of an old friend after the thoughtless din of the ball. The alpha walks up behind Stiles and the omega can feel the heat of the alpha radiating towards him. 

“I wasn’t trying to bait you.” Stiles says, unsure of why he’s explaining himself. He looks down at his hands.

“I know.” Derek’s voice is closer now, just over Stiles’ shoulder. There’s a moment of silence, just Derek’s scent and Stiles’ breathing. “You looked upset.” The alpha says. 

“I’m not.” Stiles lies openly. “There’s no need to get your hackles up.” 

“Do my hackles seem up?” Derek asks levelly, the alpha’s voice a mere breath away. Stiles inhales deeply, sinking into Derek’s scent like he’s taking a drag on a fine cigar.

“No.” Stiles admits, turning to face Derek, a foot away from the tall warrior, the alpha’s form sheltering him from the winter winds.

“Are you alright?” Derek asks quietly. 

“Of course.” Stile answers automatically. “There’s just... so many people.”

“You can leave if you want.” Derek offers, his face inscrutable. 

“I’m sure you have a lot more important things to do tonight than hovering over me.” Stiles answers thinking of the last few days of radio silence.

Derek’s face twists a little. “Nothing is more important than you.” He says softly.

“Right.” Stiles says. “We leave for America tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry.” Derek says. “There’s nothing I could do. I talked Laura down to one interview though.”

“Jesus.” Stiles groans. “I can only imagine what they’ll ask.”

“Nothing you can’t handle.” Derek says with a small smile. “You’re the master of deflection. You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to.” 

Stiles swallows, looking up into Derek’s eyes. “And what will you tell them?” Stiles asks tentatively. 

“The truth.” Derek says simply. 

“There are many versions of the truth.” Stiles says, swallowing. 

“Not between us.” Derek says. “There’s only one truth that matters between us.” Derek leans down, warm and protective over Stiles, whispering in his ear. “I’ll tell them that I love you and that I’m going to make everything alright. You don’t have to worry anymore. You can stop fighting. I'm willing to fight for you.” Derek separates from Stiles, looking down at the omega. “I only hope one day you won’t hate me anymore.”

“I don’t hate you, Derek.” Stiles says truthfully, his voice so quiet it’s nearly inaudible. “I’m scared of you. I’ve had others in control of my life before and I know all the ways a person can become caged. Being an omega with an alpha is just another way of being a slave. It doesn’t matter who the alpha is, what tribe you’re from, what someone says to you, how they claim to feel- nobody should have that kind of power over somebody else. I could never trust someone that much. The only way I can sleep at night is on my own.”

“You’ll never be completely on your own.” Derek says. “No matter what happens. As long as I’m alive I’ll be here for you, like I always have been. One day I hope you’ll see the way I love you as freeing- the way I do. I’ve been on the battlefield my whole life. I know fear. My whole life was nothing but a reaction to my fears until you gave me something to hope for. I know fear all too well. It will keep you a slave more than I ever could.” Derek sighs and turns back to go into the ballroom.


	42. Yule: Derek

The nightmares come in the hours after the ball. Cold and torturous, worse than a dozen sleepless nights in an enemy camp, they leave Derek shaking and acheing, reaching out and hugging his pillow to his chest like a small child. Derek gasps awake in the dark and dreads getting on the plane tomorrow. In the same breath he longs for America to be over and done. Three days. That’s what it comes down to. Three days and the whole world will know Stiles is no longer his. No. It’s a lie to say that Stiles will no longer be Derek’s omega even after it comes out that they won’t be mated. Stiles will always be Derek’s omega. The hard-headed, fiery omega is as irreplaceable to Derek as his own hands. 

Derek’s not stupid- Stiles will have another alpha some day. He’s too bright and magnetic and amazing to not attract another mate. Too passionate to not fall in love. Stiles will have someone else in the future. But Derek won’t have another omega. Stiles will always be his, even if it’s just in his own mind. He’ll keep that memory of the omega selfishly. Derek knows he has an obligation to the tribe, to his family, to the people. His sisters expect him to produce heirs. Strong children that will grow up to carry on the Hale name and protect their tribe after he is gone. Derek doesn’t want to anyone else. He’d never thought about touching anyone in the way he’d always thought he and Stiles would be together. Derek will do his duty. He will ensure the longevity of the Hale line and with it the protection of his tribe, but Derek will always miss the touch of his true omega, even if he never got to taste it completely. 

Three days. Three days left with Stiles as his isn’t long enough, not by far. Derek had lost so much, given so much, sacrificed. He’d gladly abandoned his youth. He’d given every ounce of his will and his power and his strength for his people in the years of his service. He’d done it neither willingly nor begrudgingly. He’d done it simply because it needed to be done and he was able to do it. This was something different. As a warlord Derek had never considered that he’d have to fight against Stiles. Being asked to give him up was an impossibility. And Derek had never in his wildest dreams thought he’d actually be giving Stiles up because that’s what the omega wanted- no, that’s what Stiles needed. Derek would have gladly, happily given his life for Stiles, but being asked to live without him was infinitely more painful. And there are days Derek doesn’t know how he’ll do it. Doesn’t know if he can. 

Giving up Stiles goes against every alpha instinct in his body. It’s like a betrayal of his core- his warrior soul. In Westenra fortune favors the strong. Only those worthy are granted safety and security, are able to have the luxury of waking up in the arms of the one they love. Derek had been worthy. He had fought for the right to Stiles for years, proven time and time again he could keep and care for the omega. He had always been taught you don’t have the right to something unless you can keep those hungry demons, death and destruction from taking it away from you. Letting Stiles go meant leaving the omega vulnerable to everything Derek has lived to keep away from the ones he loves. His body, his heart, his gut all scream take him, shelter him, hide him from the evils in the world. You deserve him. Who could care for him and give him everything he needs and deserves better than you? He belongs to you. You belong to him. You’ve always known it. Why are you fighting nature? Your nature has kept you alive.

It’s a well accepted truth: an alpha who fails to protect what is his is better off dead. He is no alpha at all. In Derek’s dreams Stiles bleeds. Stiles breaks, slowly and tortuously like meat being tenderized at a butcher’s. Derek hears Stiles’ screams. The omega’s groans of pain. Derek watches a demon in his own body kick the omega, strike him brutally. The alpha tears at himself in agony, watching the carnage over and over as he beats Stiles in a million ways. Derek sees himself drowning the omega, holding his precious Stiles under water until the omega goes still. He screams from within his own murderous body, unable to stop himself as he kills the one thing he loves more than anything else in the world. But Derek won’t stop. Stiles is dying and Derek just brutalizes him callously. Cold like the angel of death he is. That he became as a child. 

He has to let Stiles go. 

Derek will not kill his omega. He will not watch Stiles die slowly and painfully. He won’t sit by and witness their marriage kill his omega’s spirit, douse his fire, break him down until there’s nothing left but a shell. Until Stiles is as hardened and cold as Derek has become. War is hell and Westenra is war. Derek should have known to abandon all hope a long time ago. Derek was a natural at death, and loving Stiles had felt so natural as well. Holding the omega tight and close. It had felt as right and instinctive as snapping the neck of the rogue who’d threatened Stiles all those years ago. He’d read somewhere once that letting go was a kind of love too. But this felt wrong. This was new and terrifying. But Derek will learn this new kind of love if it’s what Stiles needs. He will learn how to let go.

Three days. Derek wishes someone would stop time. Still the clock and just let Derek hold his omega while Stiles is still his to touch until Derek has Stiles’ scent, the weight and feeling of his body memorized and engraved in Derek’s own. He will never understand why Stiles can’t be his. There are a million reasons he should be and Derek knows them all. Three days are all that’s left now of normal. Of natural. Three days is all that’s left of right. And three days is not enough.


	43. Yule: Interview

Oprah Winfrey’s famous voice comes over a montage of photos and historical footage: “Westenra: our direct neighbors to west and yet very little is known about this secretive land and its highly traditional inhabitants. Self-identifying a different species all together, the citizens of this violent and arcane country live in a strict caste system based on biological differences developed over the last few hundred years of seclusion from the rest of humanity. While they may look identical to you and me, doctors who have been granted rare access inside of Pandora’s Wall agree that there are fundamental differences between the genetic structure of the population there and the rest of humanity. Not unlike North Korea, it is illegal for the citizens of Westenra to interact with the rest of the world and vice versa, save for rare exceptions. The most recognizable face of Westenra is that of Chieftess Alpha Lady Laura Hale, the 31 year-old leader of Westenra’s ruling tribe. The beautiful young leader recently addressed the UN in a highly publicized speech about the current state of Westenra. In this speech Lady Laura caught the attention of the world press by announcing the engagement of her younger brother, Lord Derek Hale, the middle child in the Hale dynasty, to omega soldier, Stiles Stilinski of the McCall tribe. Stiles is more than just an ordinary soldier withing the Central Military- earlier this year it was announced that Stiles was the first omega in Westenra history to be accepted to train with the elite Black Wolves- Westenra’s answer to America’s Navy Seals, an organization where Lord Hale serves as a commander. Many human rights organizations around the world herald the news as a step in the right direction for Westenra’s historical gender inequalities. For the first ever Lord Derek Hale is here with his fiancee, Stiles Stilinski, for their first and only interview with the foreign press.”

Oprah is on a luxurious chair in a hotel suite, sitting across from a velvet love seat. Derek and Stiles sit on the love seat in dark, casual designer clothing. The two sit close, but aren’t quite touching. Derek is solemn and grim-looking. Stiles is more relaxed, leaning back on the sofa keenly watching the American in front of him.

Oprah turns towards the camera, “It has been a career goal of mine to interview an omega, and I am thrilled and honored to have the opportunity to talk to the two of you. I have to say, I’ve talked to a lot of different people over the years, celebrities, world leaders, and this was the highest security requirements we’ve ever had to go through. I don’t think the President is as well protected as the two of you.”

Stiles smirks slightly, and Derek just nods, saying, “This is the first time an omega’s been out of Westenra since my father in 1971, I think.”

“Yes,” Oprah agrees. “I’ve met with several diplomats and noblemen from your country in my career. I’ve spoken to your older sister, Lady Laura several times and your younger sister, Cora once, I think, but this is my first time meeting an omega.” Stiles smiles a little and Oprah turns to Derek, “You know when I spoke to Lady Cora it was right after she’d just announced her marriage to her omega, Heather.” Derek nods. “I asked her to explain to the rest of the world what omegas were in her mind, and she explained to me that male omegas are like ‘unicorns that can have babies,’-“ Stiles laughs. “I’ll ask you both the same question. Can you explain to the rest of the world what an omega is?”

“I don’t think Cora’s definition is a medical one.” Stiles cackles, grinning at Derek.

Derek looks thoughtful, “I think what my sister was referring to, in her own way, is the sort of magical quality omegas hold in Westenra. They are the embodiment of what’s best in us as a society. A sort of ideal of harmony and completion.” Derek looks down as Stiles fondly. “We hear a lot about gay discrimination from the rest of the world and we can’t understand that in Westenra. Omegas are a gift, regardless of gender for us.”

“Well, our men cannot bare children.” Oprah says turning to Stiles. “As a male omega, what’s the difference between you and say, a male alpha like, Derek?”

Stiles shrugs, “I can have kids.” He says. “You can’t tell, as a human, but my scent is different. Supposedly we look different than the beta and alpha males.” Stiles shrugs again. “I think too much is made of that, though.”

“Stiles doesn’t see it.” Derek says with a small smile. “For betas and alphas there’s an obvious difference between omega males and other males in the way they look. They’re sort of an ideal in Westenra.”

“Your sister once explained it to me as they’re prettier.” Oprah offers.

“So they say.” Stiles laughs.

Derek looks over at his omega, considering. “I think so.” He says, smiling softly. “They have smaller muscle mass, bigger eyes, and higher cheekbones.”

“Well, when I look at you, Stiles,” Oprah says to the omega, “I can see all those traits in you. Any woman here in the US would die for your eyelashes.” Stiles rolls his eyes and Oprah turns back to Derek. “Would you say Stiles is an ideal omega?”

Derek looks down at Stiles, clear worship on his dark features. “Stiles is perfect.” He says.

Stiles snorts, rolling his eyes.

Oprah smiles, “You seem quite enamored with your fiancee. Is it true you met as children?”

“I was a child,” Stiles laughs. “Derek came out of the womb like this.”

“Is it true he saved your life the day you met?” Oprah asks.

“He was on a mission, yeah.” Stiles nods. “I was just kind of a collateral save that day.”

“That sounds incredibly romantic to a lot of the women watching this.” Oprah says, smiling. “I know you were both young, but what did you feel when you met him for the first time? Did you know he was the Dark Prince of Westenra?”

“I was... terrified.” Stiles says dryly and Derek coughs up a sort of dry laugh from the side. “No, I mean, growing up in Westenra you know the CM uniforms by heart by the time you can walk, so I knew he was with the BW right away, but no, other than that he was an alpha I didn’t know who he was.” Stiles shrugs. “I don’t look back on that day with any particular nostalgia or anything. It wasn’t very romantic to me. Derek isn’t really the prince charming type and I’m no princess.”

“I don’t think it made a difference to him.” Derek smiles. “Stiles has always kind of done his own thing.”

Oprah nods. “About that, what made you want to join the Black Wolves, Stiles? Did Derek influence that decision at all?”

“The family, the McCall’s, who raised me always had a lot of alphas around while I was growing up. A lot of people probably don’t know this, but I’m an orphan. I don’t have a family like most of the omegas who grow up in the tribes. In Westenra when you turn 17 you go into the military unless you’re a statesman.” Stiles says as Derek watches him with interest. “That’s just how it is. If you want to eat, you fight. Because of the way I grew up, I never really thought of myself as an omega or whatever, so when I was looking at becoming an adult, I joined up like the rest of the guys I grew up with. I didn’t have much choice.”

“You had choices.” Derek says, looking at Stiles.

“Not many of them.” Stiles says.

“Is it true you’re his commanding instructor for Black Wolves’ training?” Oprah asks Derek.

Derek sighs gustily. “Yes.” He says looking tired.

“How has that been?” Oprah asks. “Being his commander and maintaining this personal relationship outside of the military? That sounds difficult.”

“I think it’s... been a lot harder for me than it has been for him.” Derek says, considering.

“Is it true you were against him joining the CM?” Oprah presses, looking intently at Derek.

“Yes.” Derek says immediately. “And I stand by that. I don’t think he should be on the front lines.”

“Because he’s an omega.” Oprah prompts.

“It started out that way.” Derek says. “But now it’s more like because he’s my omega. Westenra is still a very volatile country. We have a lot of violence there. I’ve been with the BW since I was 16. I was on the front lines for three years before that. I don’t want Stiles exposed to any of that.”

“They call you the most famous child soldier in this century.” Oprah says to Derek. “Your involvement in armed conflict at such a young age has been very publicized in the international community. What do you think of that?”

“I think that a lot of people don’t understand it. They think it’s an atrocity, but the truth of it is I was born into a family with responsibilities. I was born with a job. I didn’t even think about it when I went off to war for the first time.” Derek says. “I wanted my sisters to be safe and I wanted my tribe to be safe. I knew I was strong enough to do it.”

“How old were you then?” Oprah asks.

“I was twelve when I joined up. Thirteen when I went into live combat for the first time.” Derek says.

“Were you scared?” Oprah asks.

“I was scared of what would happen if I didn’t fight.” Derek answers. “I’m never afraid for what would happen to me. Stiles has scared me more in the past year than I ever was when I was young.”

Stiles smirks again shaking his head.

“How did your engagement come about?” Oprah asks, turning to Stiles. “Marriages are arranged in Westenra, are they not?”

“After courtship, yes.” Derek nods. “I had permission from his tribe lord to court him with the idea that we’d get married after a certain amount of time.”

“Can you explain to me what _Rubrum Jus_ is?” Oprah asks.

“ _Rubrum Jus_ is a status that an alpha can earn in Westenra.” Derek replies. “It can’t be bought or inherited- it has to be earned, usually for doing a great service to the Central Military for the country.”

“What does that mean for the alpha?” Oprah prompts.

Derek swallows. “It essentially means that you’ve achieved so much you have the right to take and court any beta or omega.”

“When were you given _Rubrum Jus_ status, Derek?” Oprah asks.

“When I was nineteen.” Derek answers factually. “But I had already been courting Stiles for a few years before then.”

“When did Derek start courting you?” Oprah asks Stiles.

The omega looks at Derek, one eyebrow raised.

“I’ve been in a courtship with Stiles for almost seven years now.” Derek answers.

“So since he was eleven.” Oprah says, look wide-eyed.

“Yes.” Derek confirms.

“How was it being courted for marriage as an eleven year-old?” Oprah asks Stiles.

“Uh...” Stiles opens his mouth. “Well, the courtship rites in Westenra are pretty vague. Like... it’s entirely possible to be involved in a courtship without all parties involved.... knowing.”

“What does it involve?” Oprah asks. “What does courtship look like when one of the two people is a child?”

“Mostly it involves a lot of... staring.” Stiles says looking dubious.

Oprah looks at Derek, laughing. “A lot of staring?”

“It’s a demonstration that you can take care of the omega to whomever owns the rights over him.” Derek corrects grumpily.

“The rights to the omega?” Oprah asks, her eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” Derek answers. “omegas and most betas are not capable to taking care of themselves. There are a lot of kidnapings of unprotected omegas and betas. Having guardians keeps them safe, ensures that they’re protected and taken care of for life.”

“Do you realize how that sounds to the rest of the modernized world?” Oprah asks.

Derek fixes her with a stare. “What we do in Westenra we do for a reason.”

“Do you think this is a good tradition for omegas, Stiles?” Oprah asks. “Or do you think Westenra could modernize and have marriages like we do here?”

Stiles shrugs. “I couldn’t really say.” He says. “I’m a soldier. I don’t know any other omegas. I was never around any when I grew up. I can only speak for myself.”

“A lot of people make bad mating choices in the US.” Derek notes. “Nobody is held accountable when families aren’t taken care of and children go fatherless.”

“A lot of bad mating choices are made in Westenra too.” Stiles says.

“Now, Derek I have to ask you about some of the rumors going around.” Oprah says, fixing her gaze on Derek. “You know I interviewed Chief Lord Cutter earlier this year.”

Derek nods.

“The Cutter tribe is another of the most powerful tribes in your country. We talked about his son, Lord Brennan in our interview. He’s currently in training with the Black Wolves, right?” Oprah says.

“Yes.” Derek affirms, expressionless.

“There’s been rumors of the Cutters possibly challenging your engagement to Stiles.” Oprah says.

“Rumors from who?” Stiles asks, rolling his eyes.

“They’ve been out there for a while now.” Oprah says smiling, she turns back to Derek who seems to not see the humor in this. “Analysts have speculated that challenging a marriage claim between two powerful tribes could possibly cause civil war within Westenra. Is this a possibility?”

“No.” Stiles snorts.

Derek looks levelly at the interviewer. “Of course any formal challenge to my mate would be seen as a direct attack of my family’s sovereignty. I would take that very seriously, as would my tribe. I can’t see this becoming an actual problem in the future though.”

“If it does, if the Cutters were to challenge your mating would you go to war?” Oprah presses.

“If another tribe were to challenge my mating while I’m involved in a formal agreement?” Derek looks at her unblinkingly. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t hesitate. I would take my men into war tomorrow.”

Oprah looks unbelieving. “You would start a civil war over a personal relationship?”

“If somebody was challenging my ability to take care of what’s mine?” Derek asks. “Yes. It would be worth it.”

“No, it would not.” Stiles interrupts, he turns and looks at Oprah. “There will not be a civil war over me or any other one omega.” He clarifies. “Absolutely not.”

“Again-“ Derek says. “I do not foresee this being a problem.”

Oprah smiles broadly. “Thank you both so much for being here and talking to me. It’s been a fascinating look into your country and your relationship. Before we go, what do you want the world to know? Stiles, you go first.” She nods pleasantly.

“I want people to know that I’m a normal person. I want people to know that omegas aren’t unicorns or whatever. I’m just a person, even if I can have a baby. I’ve made the choices in my life for me and nobody else. And it’s going to continue to be like that. Always.” Stiles says into the camera.

“And you, Derek?” Oprah asks the alpha. “What do you want the world to know about you?”

“That I love Stiles.” Derek says lowly. “I love my country and I love my people. I will continue to keep all three safe and do what’s best for them regardless of what anybody thinks of me or Westenra. My loyalty will always be to the things I love first.”


	44. Yule: Home

By the time they head back on the Hale’s private armored jet, Stiles is exhausted. All in all they really hadn’t seem much of America beyond the convoy that had taken them from the airport, to the hotel, and back again. They’d been served American food and drink, but it had smelled funny and in the end neither he or Derek had eaten much. In America food isn’t hunted or prepared by an alpha for the family. Strangers raise meat for profit and another stranger prepares and delivers it. Stiles couldn’t help but think hungrily of the food Derek had made for him in the bunker. It had been simple fare and beyond perfect. It smelled like food- not like a bunch of strangers and chemicals. He doesn’t know how anyone could possibly want to live their lives eating food packaged by strangers. Derek had glared at both their meals during the entirety of the trip, as if its mere presence in front of Stiles had offended him. In the end the alpha had said nothing though, preferring to stare blankly off into the distance instead. He had growled low and threateningly when one of the hotel staff had offered Stiles alcohol. Omegas are not permitted to drink or smoke in Westenra, just as anything else that could be potentially harmful to their health is banned. Stiles had declined the offer with a tight smile. Secretly he’d been almost relieved at Derek’s show of aggression. The alpha had been in some kind of mood since they’d had it out in the bunker- and not in one of his normal grouchy, antagonistic, shout-y moods either. The alpha looked a little sickly and vacant. They’d been given adjoining hotel rooms for their one night stay and Stiles had been kept up all night by the soft noises of Derek pacing outside his door. A few times Stiles had gotten up and stood next to the closed door, his palm out tentatively on the wood, wondering if he should go in and try to talk to the alpha. Then the sound of Derek’s pacing would still again and Stiles would step back and slide back into bed, doubting his sanity. 

The plane ride home had been a silent, suffering affair. They had sat in the same row together despite the excess room, Derek mutely leaning back against the seat, their knees touching. Stiles had wanted to ask Derek what his deal was several times, but in the end he kept his mouth shut. They had to return to base in a few days, and he was sure he’d do something to inferiorate the alpha back into his usual mood then. At one point Stiles had gone into the plane’s bathroom covertly with one of the guard’s phones and dialed up Boyd.

“Hey,” Stiles had whispered. “It’s Stiles.”

“What happened now?” Boyd demanded, sounding stressed at the mere sound of Stiles’ voice. 

“Nothing,” Stiles had said. “Jesus. Do you guys ever dial it down to like a four sometimes?”

“Not where you’re involved.” Boyd said. “What’s up?”

“I think Derek is sick.” Stiles said. “He’s been really... passive this whole trip. Like, weirdly non-confrontational.” 

“You mean like physically ill? That kind of sick?” Boyd asked.

“Yes- I mean, I’m not a doctor or anything but I think it could be that kind of sick.” Stiles said.

Boyd had snorted. “Derek is not sick.” 

“How do you know?” Stiles asked.

“It’s my job.” Boyd said. “And trust me if Derek has so much as a head cold, I would know. Alphas don’t get sick like that anyways. We’re not like you omegas.” 

Stiles had rolled his eyes. “Well, he’s being weird.”

“He’s a kind of sick.” Boyd had said opaquely. “But it’s nothing you need to worry about. If you want to help you should talk to him.” 

“Ehhh.” Stiles made a face. “He doesn’t really seem to be in the talking mood.” 

“Just tell him you’re worried.” Boyd had prompted. “He’ll perk up.”

“I might like him better this way.” Stiles had muttered.

“Then by all means stay the course and put up with his world class moping.” Boyd said, annoyed. “But for my sake you should talk to him. He’s enough of a pain in the ass to deal with without all this teenaged girl shit.” 

“Well, thanks Boyd. That was totally unhelpful.” Stiles had said and hung up. 

“Boyd is useless.” Stiles had snarled at Derek upon getting back to his seat. 

“Hm?” Derek had said, looking over at him. This kind of communication had become the norm for this trip. 

“You need a new right hand man.” Stiles had said, moving closer to the alpha’s scent. 

“Mmm.” Derek answered and had leaned back again. 

“I see why you two get along.” Stiles muttered. “Wake me when we’re back home.”

“Mmm.” Derek had made another indiscriminate alpha noise, and Stiles had closed his eyes, breathing in Derek’s scent. 

They touch down by the Hale hanger and Stiles opens his eyes, blinking around in the dark of their home country. He turns over too see Derek looking at him in the dark. 

“We’re home.” The alpha murmurs, a breath away. 

“Thank God.” Stiles says softly back. “America smells terrible.”

“You were all I could smell while we were there.” Derek says, looking down at him. It’s the longest sentence Derek’s said to Stiles since the ball.

“Are you saying I stink?” Stiles grins. 

“You’re the only thing I ever want to smell.” Derek says back, not smiling back. 

“You’d get sick of it.” Stiles says, his breath hitting Derek’s skin.

“That won’t happen.” Derek says back. 

Stiles huffs softly. “You’ve been quiet lately.” He says.

“Does that bother you?” Derek asks.

“No.” Stiles says turning away. “It’s just unlike you to not be barking orders all the time.”

“You’re not my subordinate out here.” Derek says gently. 

“I’m never your subordinate.” Stiles laughs. 

“No,” Derek agrees softly. “You’re more important than that.” 

“You just want my babies.” Stiles snorts, half joking. 

There’s a moment of silence, and then Derek’s voice is unexpectedly rough. “I want all of you.” He says. “More than anything.” 

Stiles sighs. “That’s not normal, you know.” 

“It is for me.” Derek says simply. “I’ve felt this way for years.”

Stiles frowns but doesn’t lean away from the alpha. “Why can’t you understand?”

“I’m sorry.” Derek says. “I can’t stop loving you.”

“You love what I can do for you.” Stiles says, frustrated. “Why can’t you just find yourself another baby making machine? There are easier omegas and betas out there, you know.” 

Derek snorts. “Stiles, technically every omega and beta out there is easier than you.”

“Then why don’t you take one of them?” Stiles asks. 

Derek’s mouth is a grim line. “I won’t stop trying to protect you.” The alpha swallows, his voice getting quiet, a mere breath. “It hurts me when you ask me to stop.” 

“This-“ Stiles motions between them. “You and me? It hurts me too.” 

Derek looks back at him, pained, his face filled with emotion for the first time since the bunker. “It won’t always hurt you. It won’t be like this for much longer.”

“How would you know?” Stiles demands, angry. 

Derek turns away from Stiles. “Because I know you. And I know you’re going to be okay.” 

“You’re full of shit.” Stiles mutters, turning angrily. “Just like every other alpha. How can you expect me or any other omega to trust you when all you alphas do is see things the way you want to?” Stiles huffs angrily. “Stop saying you love me. It’s bullshit. There isn’t an alpha on this fucking earth that doesn’t see an omega as replaceable. You don’t think I haven’t heard it all before? I have. At the farms. Alphas would come in for the older kids all the time. Promise them all kinds of shit. A year later the omegas would be back, brought back by the alphas who promised them all this happily ever after shit when the omega couldn’t pop out kids. Then the alphas would promise some other kid the same thing. And you know what?” Stiles laughs bitterly. “They’d believe it. Every time. Even if they saw what happened to the last omega. They’d believe it. Alphas know. They know what gets omegas. You all know that once an omega starts believing in love, he’ll believe anything.” Stiles glares stoically forwards. “Not me, Derek. I’ve always remembered that my worth is measured in what I can produce, what I can do. Nobody is going to throw me away, Derek. I’ll die on the front lines first.” 

Derek’s eyes are closed when Stiles looks over at the alpha. Derek opens them and looks at the omega. “I know.” Is all the alpha says. He gets up and starts walk down the aisle of the plane.


	45. Yule: A Little Fall of Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyPy2Iqq-NM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Hi all! Author here checking in again. Thanks for all the love- just know the feeling is entirely mutual. I am so happy you all have let me into your fantasy lives with my little fic. Again- I don't know what is going to happen between these two. Like all of my other fics (and unlike my original writing,) I don't plot or even think about this before I write. I literally sit down and go. Sometimes I'm surprised by what comes out of my characters' mouths- Stiles was not supposed to confess what he did in the plane, for example. So if anything feels a little wonky- that's why. I've been spot editing here and there, but I haven't been diligent about it- it is what it is. No beta, no planning, no pants- that's how I roll. Not even sure how Oprah ended up in this, I was just watching her interview with Michael Jackson and wrote the interview chapter while it was on in the background. Again- I love you and I'm as totally obsessed with you all as some of you profess to be with this. We all are very unhealthy.))

Stiles was headed back to the McCall keep in the morning to pick of some of his things before he heads back to training. They got back from America very late, so Stiles crashed in one of the spare rooms in Derek’s private suite. Stiles is asleep almost as soon has he hits the sheets, exhausted and secretly happy to be luxuriating in Derek’s scent. 

He wakes a few hours later to the scent of Derek’s distress smell and the sound of the alpha and Boyd talking softly in the next room. It’s got to be two in the morning. Stiles gets up and pads over to the door, listening in silently. 

“Well, I stand corrected Derek. You win.” Boyd sighs softly. “Stiles isn’t going to strangle you in your sleep after all. That would be too kind. He’s going to slowly eviscerate you emotionally instead.” 

“Boyd.” Derek sounds tired.

“In America they have this thing called, ‘suicide by cop’. You’re doing suicide by omega.” Boyd continues. 

“Nobody is dying.” Derek mutters.

“Then stop acting like you want to die.” Boyd replies. “I don’t know why you’re pulling this shit, Derek. You ever think it throws off the whole chain of command when the alpha is out of it? The dynamic gets thrown off. You’re supposed to be the strong one here.” 

“I’ll get it together.” Derek mutters. 

“What if something were to happen again, Derek?” Boyd says. “What if we were to be attacked by another insurgency? Can you honestly tell me you could protect us right now? That you could make the tough calls?” 

“Yes.” Derek growls. “I could protect the tribe right now.”

“I don’t see it. And I’ve known you for years, man.” Boyd sighs. “Get some sleep, big guy. We’re taking Stiles back home tomorrow.” Boyd walks out, shutting the door behind him. 

Stiles tentatively pushes the door between their rooms open. Derek is sitting on a sofa staring at his feet in the darkness. He looks up at Stiles in surprise at the sound of the door. 

“Hey.” The alpha says.

“Hey.” Stiles says back softly. “You okay?”

Derek looks back down at his feet. “Did we wake you?” He finally says.

“No.” Stiles lies. 

He pads across the room and sits next to the alpha on the sofa. Their knees are touching again. The two of them sit together like that for a moment silently and still, each lost in their own thoughts. All of a sudden in a fast movement Derek puts his strong arms around Stiles, pulling the omega in close until Stiles is nearly sitting on the alpha’s lap. Derek hides his face in Stiles’ neck, inhaling deeply against his skin, nosing under Stiles jaw. Stiles sighs, allowing himself to relax a little against the alpha, conflicted. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to have Derek this close, it did. It always did. Derek is warm and strong and predictable and his scent is delicious. Stiles always feels a moment of peace in the alpha’s arms- has felt like that since he was a child if he’s honest. With the peace comes fear afterwards though. Derek’s affection is as good as a bold faced lie. It means very little at the end of the day, and Stiles is sure the alpha would show the same kind of physical closeness to any other convenient omega. Still, part of Stiles craves this closeness between them. He allows Derek to hold him here in the middle of the night. He allows himself to feel safe and protected and warm here in the dark where nobody can see them and judge. 

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks, nuzzling against Derek’s hair. 

There’s a moment where Derek just breaths and holds Stiles closer. He finally says, “I don’t want you to go in the morning.” 

Stiles feels Derek nip at his neck and suppresses a shudder of pleasure. “I’m just going home for a little while.” Stiles says, running his fingers through Derek’s hair. “We’ll be back on base by nightfall.” 

Derek just presses his face closer to Stiles’ neck, sighing at the feeling of the omega’s fingers against his scalp. “I don’t want you to go.” Derek just repeats simply. “I want you to stay with me.”

“I am with you all the time.” Stiles says, inhaling Derek’s scent. “I’m here right now, right?”

“It’s not long enough.” Derek says nonsensically, shifting Stiles so the omega is straddling him, their chests pressed together, Stiles head resting on Derek’s shoulder. “Last time I let you out of my sight you let that idiot lick you.”

Stiles muffles a snort of laughter.

“It’s not funny, Stiles.” Derek growls. “You smelled fucking terrible. I wanted to kill him. I almost did.”

“You gave me an angle and I played it.” Stiles sighs. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“I can’t help it.” Derek says. “I wish I could tell you I regret beating the shit out of that guy, but I don’t. I really don’t.”

“You’re handsy tonight.” Stiles laughs softly, tamping down on any guilty feelings quickly and just letting himself relax. 

“Mmm.” Derek murmurs against Stiles’ neck. “I never touch you as much as I want or where I want.” The alpha growls softly in Stiles’ ear. “I could make you feel so good if you let me.”

Stile blushes, feeling his whole body heat. He’s never heard an alpha talk like this and he never expected to like it. He hides his face against the alpha’s shirt even though the room is dark. 

“I want you to stay with me so much.” Derek whispers, mouthing against his ear. “I don’t understand why you won’t.”

Stiles leans back a little, looking into the alpha’s sad eyes. “Would you ever let me go if I did?” 

Derek leans forwards and kisses Stiles’ brow. “I don’t know if I could.” He confesses. 

“That’s why I can’t stay.” Stiles says simply. 

Derek swallows. “If I was just a man, not a prince, not warrior, not an alpha- would you stay?” 

Stiles sighs, leaning back down against the alpha. They stay like that for a long silent moment. “You’re not just a man, Derek.” Stiles says softly. “And neither am I. You’re everything to your tribe and to the CM and to this country. You said it yourself, you were born with a job. I was born with curse.” He looks up at Derek. “You’re everything to them. You need to be everything to them. So you can’t be anything to me.” He sighs. “They need you in a way I can’t.”

“Then just stay with me right now.” Derek breaths into Stiles’ hair. “Will you let me have that?” 

“I guess.” Stiles sighs sleepily, nuzzling into Derek’s chest. “But I’m going home to get clean socks tomorrow and you can’t stop me.” 

“I know.” Derek breaths against Stiles’ forehead. “I never could stop you from anything.”


	46. Day 51: Changes

“Stiles,” Lady McCall appears at the door of Stiles’ room in the McCall keep as Stiles is loading fresh underwear and socks into a sea bag. “Can you go to Lord McCall’s study please, hun? He wants to talk to you.”

“Uh, sure.” Stiles says, straightening his shirt. He heads down the hall and over to the section on the keep where Lord McCall is stationed. He’s let in by the guards immediately. Stiles pokes his head into where Scott’s dad is sitting at a vast oak table, studying some paperwork intently. “Lord McCall?” He calls tentatively.

“Stiles, come in.” Lord McCall says with a smile. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Did I offend Oprah or cause and international incident or something?” Stiles groans.

“If you did, I’m not aware of it.” Lord McCall laughs. “But I suppose anything is possible. Have a seat, son.” He gestures to a chair across from him.

“Alright.” Stiles sighs, sitting down a little nervously. “What then?”

“Stiles I received a document from the Hale tribe canceling your marriage contract.” Lord McCall says evenly.

“Excuse me?!” Stiles spits, infinitely glad there’s nothing in his mouth at the moment as he would have spewed it all over Lord McCall. He’s positive he didn’t hear the lord correctly.

“As you probably know, Lord Hale has _Rubrum Jus_ status.” Lord McCall goes on, like Stiles isn’t staring at him bug-eyed.

“That’s what he told Oprah.” Stiles says. “I can’t believe that’s a thing. Why is that a thing?” He can’t seem to stop himself from babbling in his shock.

“I... don’t know.” Lord McCall says. “But it essentially means he can activate and cancel mating contracts with impunity.”

“What can’t he do without impunity?” Stiles spits.

“Um. I can’t comment on that.” Lord McCall answers. “But I wanted to let you know the new status of things. Obviously we’re not going to challenge the Hale’s decision.”

Stiles just stares at Lord McCall like he’s swallowed his tongue, at a complete loss. He’s totally thrown by the news. He feels like he’s been slammed into an concrete wall all over again.

“They’ve cited political repudiation as grounds for termination of the betrothal.” Lord McCall continues.

“What does that mean?” Stiles asks.

“Your union wasn’t seen a politically or materially advantageous for an alpha of Lord Hale’s status.” Lord McCall says gravely.

Stiles lets out a humorless bark of laughter. “I could have told them that!” He says incredulously.

“This obviously won’t affect your status with the BW.” Lord McCall says. “You’ll report to Snakehead to resume training tonight at planned.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles says, his mouth still hanging open. “I’m sorry-“ He says, trying to get it together. “But does this mean I’ll be mated to someone else then?”

“That is a possibility.” Lord McCall says evenly. “I will tell you Lady McCall and I are openly looking for a mate for you. While you know we hold a great deal of affection for you Stiles, you’re an unmated adult omega and that makes you a liability for this tribe, just as any other unmated omega would be.”

Stiles knows this, has known it his entire life, let hearing the words aloud still wound him on some level. “Yes,” He says, his eyes downcast. “Of course. I don’t wish to be a burden on you. You’ve given me so much already.”

“I am optimistic we’ll find a match for you, Stiles.” Lord McCall says. “However, it will be difficult. An omega that’s been repudiated by a respected alpha carries a certain stigma among the tribe families. However, I know of several older, childless alphas of considerable wealth who I know would be interested.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles stares at Lord McCall, him mind working a million miles an hour. “Right...”

“The important thing is you’ll be taken care of.” Lord McCall smiles.

“Sure...” Stiles says dumbly.

“There’s one more thing.” Lord McCall says.

“Oh?” Stiles asks, his voice cracking a little.

“Lady Hale informed me this morning that Lord Hale will be announcing his engagement to Lord Argent’s sister, Lady Kate Argent, later this week. She’s a beta and an heiress of the Argent tribe.” Lord McCall says. “I wasn’t aware the Argents were even in negotiation with the Hales, but this will not come as a surprise to anyone. The Argents have been angling for this union since Lord Hale was born. It is believed behind closed doors they’d nearly reached an agreement with the late Lady and Lord Hale before their untimely deaths.”

“Right.” Stiles says. “Well this is all very... logical.” He looks up again. “Can I go... finish packing, my lord?”

“Of course, Stiles.” Lord McCall says. “Just focus on getting through training right now. We’ll talk about finding you another mate after you’re done.”

“Uh. Sure.” Stiles says, and turns and walks out of the office, trying not to vomit.


	47. Day 51: A Lecture in a Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bnG06phPKbw

Stiles is in a cold sweat and nearly hyperventilating, clawing absently at the scabs and scars on his scalp by the time he reaches his room. He grabs a tablet from his beside table and locks himself in a bathroom, shaking. He can barely dial Martin properly, feeling like his head is somehow disconnected from his body. 

“Stilinski!” Martin’s face appears in the tablet. “What’s up? Are you sick again? Why do you always look like that?”

“Uh.” Stiles opens his mouth and then closes it again only to open it again like a fish caught on a hook. “So.” He rolls over, setting the tablet on the ground quickly and vomits into the toilet. He picks up the tablet again wiping his mouth with the back of his hand clumsily.

Martin looks beyond disturbed. “You are sick! What’s wrong?!”

“My whole life has been a lie!” Stiles blurts inartfully. “Or everything I always suspected was true, actually is.” 

“Uh. Did someone just tell you Santa Clause isn’t real?” Martin asks, one eyebrow raised. 

“Santa Clause isn’t real? What the fuck is Santa Clause?” Stiles asks.

“Oh, that’s right.” Martin notes. “You’re an orphan. What’s wrong?”

“When you said you would help me, at the ball- did you mean it?” Stiles asks frantically.

Martin’s face softens. “Of course.” 

“Well I think I’m officially down to plan B.” Stiles says, hyperventilating. “You need to get me out of here. Hide me, kill me- do whatever you have to. I’m out of ideas.”

“Whoa, honey. Slow down. What’s the matter?” Martin says. “Whatever it is- we’ll fix it. Does Derek know you’re freaking out right now? Did you talk to him? I told you to talk to him-“ 

“Derek repudiated me!” Stiles says, interrupting Martin. 

“WHAT?!” Martin shrieks. “The fuck happened there?! Is he fucking crazy?! I’m going to rearrange his face-“ 

“Lydia, focus!” Stiles says. “Derek is not the problem here!”

“Are you sure?” Martin asks. “It feels like he’s always the problem.” 

“Well he’s not!” Stiles snaps. “I’ve been angling to get out of his tall, dark, dreamy clutches for a while now!”

“Dreamy?” Martin raises an eyebrow. 

“Shut up!” Stiles snaps. “The problem is they’re not going to fucking quit- not now, not ever! Not until I’m dead or pregnant! And I don’t know which is worse!”

“I’d say dead.” Martin offers. 

“You would think that, you alpha bitch!” Stiles snorts.

“What?” Martin looks hurt. 

“Sorry.” Stiles says. “I’m upset.”

“Obviously.” Martin notes. “So wait- why did Derek repudiate you? What was their official reason?” 

“They said I’m not politically or materially advantageous to a lord.” Stiles says. 

“What?!” To Stiles surprise Martin bursts out laughing and disappears from the camera’s view for a moment. 

“Well I’m glad you find my destitute state funny, Lydia.” Stiles snorts. 

“It’s not that, sweetie.” Martin say reemerging into the frame. “It’s just that is the most bullshit reason for repudiation I could possibly imagine.”

“No. I think it’s the only part of this that makes perfect sense.” Stiles says. 

“Oh no it does not.” Martin snorts. “I’m going to tell you something about yourself, Stiles. I haven’t told you before now because I thought it would just make you blow your top, but you’ve already blown your top so what the hell.” 

“‘kay.” Stiles looks at her suspiciously. “What is it now?” 

“Look,” Martin says. “I went over to see Laura right after I found out about you and Derek’s engagement. I wanted to know what gives. She told me something very interesting about you. Stiles, you’re a Dormer omega- the last of a breed of omegas thought to be extinct. That’s how you’ve lasted through BW training. That’s why you’ve got such amazing reflexes and what’s different about you scent. You’ve got resilience and ingenuity unheard of in the modern population of physically and biologically weak omegas. You’re a genetic goldmine. You could easily challenge Derek’s repudiation. You bring more into this union than he does.” 

Stiles scowls at Martin. “I’m not challenging shit. Derek can marry that beta and have noble children like he wants. I’m not getting in the way of that. Just get me the fuck out of here, Lydia. Do it or I’ll find a way. I’ll go hide in Jackal City. It’s the easiest place to get lost in the world.” 

“Stiles, that’s suicide.” Martin says. “You can’t do that. Come back to BW training. We’ll figure it out after you finish. You’ve worked so hard to be there. Your dream is still in your grasp. Come on. Just come back to Snakehead.” 

“You think this is about being a Black Wolf?” Stiles stares at her. “That’s what you think this is about? You think I want to be a mercenary? Who the fuck actually wants to be a mercenary?” Stiles shakes his head. “Lydia- this was about freedom. I thought if I could become the first omega BW I’d have proven my worth, that they’d let me fight and not be mated off. But it’s very clear that isn’t going to happen. They’re going to mate me off no matter what I do. This was never about self-actualization- this is about survival.” 

Martin sighs. “Everything in this God-forsaken country is about survival.” She pauses, considering. “I’ve been thinking about this since the ball, you know, and I’m going to help you. I can’t let you go to Jackal City. First- I want you to hear me out though.” 

“Fine.” Stiles snarls. “Lay it on me.”

“Stiles, I haven’t always lived here.” Martin starts. “When I was younger my father went on an extended diplomatic trip to America. He moved my mother and I to Washington for three years. I attended sixth through eighth grade in an American school. Nobody knew I was an alpha and nobody cared. In America, they have a sort of caste system, but they mostly ignore it. It’s not like here.” She sighs. “When I met you, you reminded me of an American, the way you ruthlessly pursued your personal goals. In America the general population has a higher quality of life than ours does here. They have the luxury of all trying to be something better or more than just whatever role in society will put food in their mouths or a roof over their heads. Here in Westenra everyone’s vocation is staying alive, playing whatever role our society thinks will best ensure the survival of the most of us as a group.” She smiles a little. “You were never like that Stiles, survival was never enough for you. You were willing to die for your freedom. There’s something oddly romantic about that.” 

“I’m not going to America, Lydia.” Stiles scowls. “That place smells.”

“I’m not saying you should.” Martin laughs. “I started thinking, you know, after I found out about your engagement to Derek. I started watching the two of you. I noticed something. At first I thought you were being brave- going into an alpha program like this, your whole live free or die trying thing. Most people in Westenra have never been outside of the tribe community and so of course they didn’t understand how just surviving isn’t good enough for you. I mean, for most betas and omegas born into what you were born into, popping out a few kids is a small price to pay for the kind of devotion and protection Derek was offering you.” She sighs. “But the more I watched you the more I realized you’re just like the rest of us- you aren’t being brave. You’re scared shitless. Now, I’m going to help you, but I want you to know you’re being a coward, Stiles. Yes, you. You’re scared too. It’s just that the fear of rejection and being thrown away is more terrifying for you than starving in the streets is.” She looks at Stiles intently. “Derek isn’t perfect- not by a long fucking shot, but I do think he does love you. He didn’t get enough time with his family, you know, so for him the height of success isn’t what rank he can achieve or how much wealth he can amass- it’s having a family that’s alive and safe. Being an individual is a very westernized idea, and there’s something all cowboy and romantic about that, but you know Americans rank 17th in the world when it comes to happiness?” She sighs. “I guess I’m saying maybe being letting yourself be loved would be better for you in the long run.” 

Stiles sighs back, leaning against the bathroom wall. “Okay, Lydia. Lecture absorbed. Now are you going to get me out of here? Derek’s made his choice. Please- let me make mine.” 

Martin smiles sadly. “Alright Stiles. I have a cousin, a beta, Bridget. She knows how to get you out.”


	48. Back on Run

Stiles headed to base in an armored SUV. They drop him at the BW training camp and he drops his gear off at his barracks. Rather than turn in for the night, Stiles pulls on a black hoodie and stick a knife in one of the pockets. No matter what happens, no matter who he has to take out, Stiles is getting off base tonight. Nobody is going to stop him. The omega heads out into the darkness, taking a long way around the huge base, carefully avoiding the bright lights of buildings or street lamps. The clothes he’s wearing are Scott’s- stolen from the alpha’s dirty laundry pile that morning, and Stiles hopes they’ll mask his scent enough that he call undue attention to himself. After forty-five minutes of zigzagging around, Stiles crouches behind one of the buildings near the formal entrance to Snakehead, waiting. At exactly 2100 hours a black SUV with dark tinted windows and its lights off pulls up and the door opens. Stiles checks his blasters carefully before darting inside the vehicle. A beautiful blonde is driving, Lydia sitting behind her. Next to the blonde sleeps an older woman in a kerchief and housecoat wearing sunglasses. 

“Get on the floor.” Lydia growls, and Stiles ducks down, flat on the floor. Lydia throws a black blanket around him as the SUV pulls up to the check point. 

“Identification?” A cold voice asks from outside the vehicle. 

“Lady Bridget Martin.” The blonde says. “I’m here with Lady Lydia Martin the heiress of the Martin tribe and my great-aunt, Lady Genevieve Martin. We’re headed to pick up some of Lady Martin’s affects at the Martin tribe’s house here.” 

“Have a good evening, ladies.” The guard says, and Lady Bridget pulls the SUV through smoothly. 

They drive silently through the base for a while before pulling up to the Martin tribe’s home in the darkness. Lydia leans forwards and to Stiles’ complete shock hauls her ‘great-aunt’ under the shoulders, pulling what turns out a creepily life-like mannequin in the back with her. 

“The fuck is that?” Stiles whispers. 

Lydia smirks at him. “It’s a decoy. We use them in convoys sometimes for security reasons.”

“Do you even have a great-aunt Genevieve?” Stiles squeaks. 

“Oh we do.” Bridget says smiling. “She’s asleep in bed about a hundred miles from here right now.” 

Lydia pulls the wig off the mannequin, along with coat, and sunglasses. “Put these on.” Lydia says thrusting them at Stiles. 

“Seriously?” Stiles eyes Lydia.

“You want out or not?” Lydia asks and that shuts Stiles up real quick. 

The two young noblewomen and their ‘great-aunt’ walk into the house, locking the door behind them. Once inside the trio walk into the kitchen and Stiles pull off the disguise. 

“I sincerely hope your plan isn’t to have me spend the rest of my life cross-dressing as your great-aunt.” Stiles says. 

“I don’t have a long term plan right now.” Lydia says, starting some coffee. “You just asked me to get you out- I’m getting you out. Stiles, this is my cousin, Lady Bridget.”

“Charmed.” Stiles says, sitting down. 

“It’s lovely to meet you.” Bridget says. “I’m sorry about the circumstances.” She winces. 

“Lydia said you know how to hide me.” Stiles says to the blonde. “I’m all ears.” 

“I’m a rather unusual creature, Stiles.” Lady Bridget says, smiling. “Like yourself, I value my freedom.” 

“Bridget is an unmated beta.” Lydia says. “Like you she knows her way around weaponry and she can take care of herself.”

“Props.” Stiles nods.

“She runs an inn deep in the Martin woods- right outside Snakeass. It’s in a pretty obscure location. Mostly the only people there are men from my father’s army. Nobody who’s met you in person.” Lydia continues. “The short term plan is to sneak you off based dressed as our great-aunt and then hide you at the inn.”

“They’ll hunt me down in a week.” Stiles says. “My smell, you know.” 

Bridget pulls out a package of documents from her purse. “This is your new identity.” She says. “When Lydia talked to me after the ball I went to see a friend of mine at one of the omega farms. She owed me a favor. This is the identification of an omega who died there last week from an illness. She didn’t report his death. I obtained his rights under the guise that I needed someone to help out at the inn. This omega was twenty-five- an orphan like yourself. Shawn Jensen. He had a serious skin condition that caused the majority of his body to need to be wrapped in gauze and sheltered from the sunlight. He also walked with a cane.”

“I’ve got colored contacts for you here.” Lydia says. “Your eyes are one of your most memorable features, so we need to disguise that. I also have shoes with an insert in one of them that will make you walk with a limp. The rest of your body we’ll disguise in baggy clothing and bandages. It’s not perfect but it’ll work until we can come up with something more permanent.” 

“That’s all very well on the surface but what about my scent?” Stiles repeats. “If by some obscure chance Boyd- or God forbid, Derek goes in the inn, they’ll know my distinct scent. They aren’t just going to let me go AWOL either- it’s illegal for me to be out without the permission of the McCall’s.”

“I’ve worked up a pretty potent cream to rub under the bandages.” Lady Bridget says. “Also, I’ve been experimenting with herbs for years now. Every once in a while I shelter an omega on the run at the inn. Nothing is entirely foolproof, but between the cream and some herbal supplements I’ve developed I think I can successfully alter your biochemistry enough that nobody should recognize your scent. It’s worked in the past. It’s just not very practical. You’ll have to take the herbs with every meal. You can’t miss a dose. Between the disguise and the fact that you’ll have actual official papers- a real identity, I’m optimistic.” She says. 

“What if they find out you hid me?” Stiles asks, wide-eyed to Lydia. 

“They won’t.” Lydia assures him. “You have ten hours between now and when you’re expected at roll call. That’s more than enough time for you to get to the inn and start the herbs. You smell like Lord McCall right now- there won’t be anything for them to trace back to this house or to the Martin tribe. Even if they suspect me, they won’t get shit. They won’t know if you’ve been kidnaped, got lost, or went AWOL. They’ll have no leads.” She reaches out to touch Stiles’ arm. “We don’t surrender, remember?” 

“Thank you.” Stiles whispers. 

“I’ll be in touch when the air clears.” Lydia says, embracing him. “Lay low for a while. We’ll come up with a longer term solution soon.”


	49. Daylight

When Derek received word that morning that Siles hadn’t show up to roll call he sent Duncan in to the omega’s bunker to see Stiles had simply over-slept. What the instructors found was all of the omega’s personal items carefully lain out as if the omega had fully intended to resume training- and no sign of Stiles. Duncan and Lief asked the recruits if anyone had seen Stilinski only to be met with blank stares and confusion. Then began a meticulous seven hour scan of Snakehead Academy and the base, itself. By the end of the day the rest of Derek’s usual active duty team, Black Wolf Pack 6 had been called, stormed onto base in full regalia and had began going through dumpsters and sniffing out leads. The BW recruits went on with their normally scheduled training without Stiles unaware of the search going on around them. The only real difference for the recruits was the distinct absence of the commander or Boyd throughout their day. 

Derek is outside the BW chow hall pacing with debris from the last dumpster he dove through nose first in his hair and a panicked look on his face. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, commander.” Lief says. “The McCall tribe confirmed that he was delivered back to base as planned last night at 1800 hours. All his stuff is here. His clothes, his personal communication devices, his wallet, his identification- nobody can even get a scent trace on him. He definitely made it into the barracks last night. After that- it’s like he evaporated into thin air.”

“Calm down, Derek.” Boyd says, reaching out to touch the pacing alpha, only to be viciously shrugged off. “He’s unarmed, he has no identification- where could he go?” 

“This entire base has been secure from the moment Stilinski arrived on the premises.” Lief says. “I’ve checked and rechecked all the gate footage. Nobody is unaccounted for. I can’t see how anyone could have taken him.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Derek snarls.

“He’s got to still be on base.” Boyd reasons. “He’d need his identification to get checked out at any point and it’s still in his room.” 

“If he’s on base how come nobody in the most skilled BW pack can sniff him out?” Derek says. “How come I can’t sniff him out? I haven’t smelled him since I got back on base. Where the fuck is he?”

“I don’t... I don’t know.” Lief says. “I’ve had the men go over this entire place from the academy to Snakeass Wood all day.”

“Have them do it again.” Boyd says. “Somebody here know something- has seen something. We haven’t just up and lost an omega since the omega registry was complete sixty years ago. Omegas just don’t go missing. Particularly not ones as high profile as Stiles.” 

“None of them have gone missing that we know of...” Derek mutters ominously.

“We’ve kept communication open all day.” Lief says. “In case a ransom call came in- nothing. It’s highly unlikely anyone would try to ransom him since your repudiation went public yesterday though. He’s not worth anything politically.”

“He’s worth everything to me!” Derek says. “There are people who know that. Anyone with anything against me could have taken him from me!”

“Calm down.” Boyd tries. 

“I will not calm down!” Derek glares at Boyd. “Not until I’ve found Stiles. Not until I know he’s safe. Send another team out to start combing the areas around Snakehead.” 

“Do you know how this looks?” Boyd argues. “You repudiated him. How do you think the Argents are going to react when you go publically ape-shit over an omega you’re not engaged to anymore?” 

“I don’t care.” Derek says. “You can tell the Argents and my sister and anyone else I’m not moving forward on my marriage to Kate until Stiles is back. I’ll be devoting every resource to finding him. I will cover every inch of this country myself until I find him.” He looks at Leif. “Call in Cutter and Martin.”

“We’ve already talked to them.” Boyd says. “They don’t know anything. Both have been accounted for last night. Cutter didn’t even get on base until this morning. He was at the Cutter keep until 0600 hours.” 

“They’re the closest to him.” Derek says. “If one of them is keeping him from me I need to know.” 

Boyd sighs, turning to Lief. “Do what the crazy man says.” 

A moment later Martin and Cutter are standing before the three Wolves. 

“Where is he?” Derek snarls, rounding on the two recruits. “If you know where he is you better give him to me now!” Derek’s face is tight and dangerous and looks like it’s half a second away from exploding. “If I find out either of you are withholding information I will consider it an act of treason and I will respond in kind.” 

“You’re insane.” Martin spits. “You don’t even hold the rights to him anymore!” 

“I’ve been in communication with Lord McCall.” Derek counters. “They will stand with me on this. They want him back. I want him back. Where is he?” 

“I am just as concerned about this as you are.” Cutter exclaims. “I don’t know where he is and I can’t believe you lost him.” 

“I didn’t lose him!” Derek growls. “Someone took him from me and I will kill them when I find out who!” 

“You lost him before he disappeared.” Martin snarls. “I’m not even surprised you can’t find him now.”

“WHERE IS HE, LYDIA?!” Derek bellows. “IF YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS YOU WILL TELL ME!”

“I don’t know shit!” Martin spits back. “You know I don’t know where he is. I haven’t even seen him since the ball! I’ve been with family this whole time.” 

“Then where is he?” Derek growls. “Why can’t I smell him. You hid him from me before- where is he now?” 

“I don’t know.” Martin says. “I’m not his babysitter. And we didn’t hide him. You all found him after a day of scenting him out. Just find his scent again and follow it to the strongest source. The false positive system is the only way I know of to even try to mask an omega- and that means mask, Derek. You know you can’t hide an omega. It’s impossible.” 

“Then where did he go?” Derek turns an punches a sizeable hole into the wall.

Martin stares at Derek hard. “You ever think he doesn’t want to be found?” She asks.

“What?” Derek turns to her, murder in his eyes. “What do you know?” 

“I know Stiles.” Martin says, glaring back. “I know how smart and determined he is. Stiles wouldn’t just get lost at random, Derek. Maybe if you can’t find him there’s a good reason for that.”

Derek’s face breaks completely, changing from anger to absolute devastation. “He’s not gone.” Derek says. “He’s not. I never thought... he can’t be gone. I will find him. There’s so much I need to tell him. He can’t be gone.” Derek leans against the wall. “I need him.” 

“You repudiated him.” Cutter says, looking at Derek intensely.

Derek stares into the wall. “I love him. I didn’t ever think I’ve actually lose him like this.” Derek straightens. “And I won’t. I will find him. I will bring him home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vestal has created some seriously gorgeous graphics inspired by this fic and you should definitely check them out and let the artist know how awesome they are. http://archiveofourown.org/works/3802834/chapters/8471530


	50. Blood Out

“We have a problem.” Lydia is in her family home on Snakehead, talking to Stiles on video chat. Stiles is nearly unrecognizable, bandages covering most of his skin, and a scarf wrapped around his face. 

“How so?” Stiles sighs. 

“Derek didn’t react to this whole you going off the grid thing exactly in a way a guy who broke off your engagement of his own volition... would.” Lydia makes a face.

Stiles is wearing colored contacts that have turned his eyes a muddy sort of green. He blinks at her. “I didn’t anticipate he’d be reacting at all.”

Lydia sighs. “Okay, to be honest? Reaction may be an understatement.” She leans forward. “He called in two different BW teams. There’s a ten million dollar reward for your safe return. He’s personally vowed to rip this country apart inch by inch until you’ve been found.” 

Stiles stares at her, wide-eyed. “You’re joking.”

“I was there myself.” Lydia says, shaking her head. “Derek punched a hole in the wall. Everyone is out to find you, Stiles. It doesn’t look good that such a high profile omega might have been kidnaped off a CM base right under the BW’s noses. The McCall tribe is united with the Hales on this- they want you home. Derek has refused to go forwards with his engagement until you’re back. This place is crawling with BW operatives. Everyone is in a panic. Laura flew in yesterday. She told me she’s considering asking the American FBI for help.” 

“They can’t stand to think that an omega might actually be able to get out of their control.” Stiles growls. “They’re probably afraid I’ll sell state secrets of mass gender oppression to the Saudis.” 

Lydia shakes her head, her eyes sad. “They’re afraid Derek will self-destruct.” She sighs. “He told me he loves you. I think he’s convinced a group of rogue insurgents have taken you and are hurting you. He’s really torn up.”

Stiles bites his lip, wincing internally. “Derek is a control freak.” Stiles says. He shakes his head. “They’re never going to let me go...” He sighs. “Give it to me straight. Will they find me?”

Lydia sighs as well, thinking hard. “Stiles- you know what you told me, about being on run? You told me, it might not be what you expect, it might not the same people who were hunting you yesterday, but if you stop, they will find you.”

“Goddamnit.” Stiles slams his fist into the wall and Lydia is reminded of Derek. “I can’t keep running. I can’t do it.” He looks around furtively. “If it’s a death they want- a death is what they’ll get.” The omega disappears out of frame for a minute. 

“Stiles! What are you doing?” Lydia asks him nervously.

“I’m putting an end to this.” Stiles says, reemerging with a hoodie and a knife. The omega starts pulling at his bandages, leaving a clear space on his arm. 

“Sweetie, you’re scaring me.” Lydia says. 

Stiles draws a neat line in his arm with the knife. The wound begins weeping red blood down the omega’s creamy skin. Stiles rubs the blood all over the hoodie, letting the dark liquid stain the clothing liberally. The omega then takes the knife to the hoodie, ripping into the blood-soaked garment.

“I’ll plant this in the woods after dark.” Stiles says, a near maniacal gleam in his eyes. “If they think I’m dead they’ll have to stop looking.” 

“Okay, putting aside the fact that your tolerance for pain is almost scary,” Lydia sighs, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.” 

“This is a great idea.” Stiles grits out. “You don’t even know.” 

“Right.” Lydia says, looking unsure. “Well, okay. You need to be careful. You have the whole weight of the BW after you.” 

“I was born careful.” Stiles snarls. “And now I’m dead.” Stiles holds up the bloody, ripped hoodie, like something out of a horror film. “Long live Shawn.”


	51. The Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cL5yY84TnE

Stiles’ days at the inn are pleasant and quiet in ways he’s never known before. Lady Bridget keeps only a cook, a maid, and an elderly grounds keeper on staff, and their patrons consist almost solely of young, low ranking Martin soldiers getting drinks or fresh bread after patrol. Stiles spends his time working in greenhouse vegetable garden off the side of the inn or helping Lady Bridget make sweets from the honey and maple syrup she makes during the summer. The shoe inserts Lydia gave him slow him down, making him walk in a stooped, clumsy manner entirely different from his normal smooth, feline posture. Lydia also gave Stiles a sort of retainer which slows his speech, making Stiles mouth feel completely alien. Stiles’ usual quick and cutting tongue is now slurred and awkward. He doesn’t speak much these days anyhow. There is nobody to fight here. With his clumsy steps and his entire body covered in bandages and baggy clothing for the first time in his life Stiles is all but ignored by alphas. Once in a while he hears himself as the butt of some ugly joke from on the young soldiers, but for the most part Stiles welcomes the new invisibility. There are nights when Stiles lies in his small room in the attic of the inn and he can almost believe Stiles never existed, or that the omega who was a merc in training and engaged to the Dark Prince of Westenra had really died out in the woods. If Stiles could only forget Derek’s scent, he’d be happier than he’s ever been. 

He closes his eyes at night and sees Lady Kate Argent behind his eyelids, the way he’s seen her on televison and across the room at tribe functions. Her perfect honeyed hair, her picturesque smile. The way she’d looked at Derek. Perhaps he’d just been imagining the way her large doe eyes had followed the alpha around the room, the way she’d looked at Derek. Like he was already hers. And maybe he was and Stiles just hadn’t known it. She was beautiful- that’s for sure. Self-assured, educated, cultured, Kate would know how to smile, what to say- a true royal by blood. Derek’s by fate. She and Derek are like a matched set. He wonders if Derek has ever fought with her. Screamed at her until they were both red in the face and had each other’s red blood running down both their faces. He can’t imagine it. Kate was bred for better things than the dirt of the training field and the wrath of an alpha who just won’t listen. Stiles bets Kate would know what to do with courting gifts. She’d know how to navigate a holiday ball without alienating another tribe’s heir. Kate probably knows how to accept compliments without blushing and hiding or wanting to punch something. Kate would know what to do with Derek’s love- Kate would expect it. Kate had been born with a name, not a number. A family, not a curse. Kate had nothing to run from. It made sense that Derek would run to her. 

Lady Kate was an occasional topic of conversation among the alphas at the inn. Her beauty, her elegance- all worthy of awe and gossip to the young soldiers. 

“Hale traded up.” One of the rangers says, spilling a trickle of ale down the side of his beard. “Saw Lady Kate last summer at a festival at the keep- definitely one of the hottest noble women I’ve ever seen.” 

“I was surprised by the news, to be honest.” Another soldier says. “Yeah, Lady Kate’s a pretty young thing, but I heard she’s been on Lady Laura’s shit list forever. Like, since they were teenagers.” 

“Who’d you hear that from?” The first soldier beckons Stiles over for a refill. 

“Parks was on Lady Martin’s security detail.” The soldier says. “Lady Martin personally can’t stand the Argent woman. Parks said the Lady called Kate a ‘cougar succubus bimbo,’ last week while throwing a hissy fit. And you know Lady Martin is one of Laura’s close friends.” 

“I’m sure it’s just female jealousy.” The other solider shrugs. “You know how women are. They hate the pretty ones. And Lady Martin was friends with the omega.” 

“You know, they say Hale isn’t sold on the whole thing either.” Another ranger adds. “They say he’s got the omega hidden somewhere on the side and is just trying to appease the Argent tribe.” 

“Who the fuck knows?” The first man says. “Them nobles are all batshit. I can’t see what red blooded alpha wouldn’t be on board with mating with Lady Kate. That woman’s perfect.” 

“They’ll make some good-looking babies.” The soldier agrees. “Real good for the Hale tribe.” 

“What do you think, gimpy?” One of the soldiers leers at Stiles. “You think Lady Kate is a better catch than that missing omega?” 

“I wouldn’t know, sir.” Stiles’ voice is heavy and stuttering with the mouthpiece. He turns and limps back to the kitchen, the alphas’ rough chuckles following him.


	52. The Story in Blood

Stiles had bled himself out more each night for three days, keeping the grisly results in jars. He was not entirely sure it was healthy to lose this much blood, but it’s a chance he had to be willing to take if this was going to work. Finally he ducked out one night, and stashed the hoodie in the brush. He’d dripped the contents of the jars all over the scene, finally leaving one large gruesome smeared puddle of his own blood near the sweatshirt. He returned to the inn and took his herbs with a glass of milk from Lady Bridget’s goat, hoping it’d been enough. 

It’s been three days since Stiles planted the bloody hoodie the trees at the edge of Snakeass Wood, four miles from the wood and he’s washing the bar down at 2000 hours when Lady Bridget runs down the stairs quickly, pulling on a cashmere shawl. The beautiful noble woman just has time to shoot Stiles an alarmed look before the door to the inn is thrown open and four Black Wolves, combat helmets off, walk into the common room with a terrific clatter. The communal eating area is nearly abandoned, but the straggling patrons look up with alarm as Lief, Garitty, and Boyd come tramping through the door. Boyd is dragging Derek behind him. The commander is bent, doubled over, clutching something some tightly to his chest. Stiles’ heart catches in his throat and his whole body tenses as he smells the infinite despair and desperation rolling off Derek along with the alpha’s all too familiar scent. Stiles quickly ducks from the bar, standing off to the side in the room, stooped in the shadows. 

“Come one, Derek. Come on, big guy.” Boyd is saying, trying to deposit the alpha into a chair.

Derek collapses on to the floor instead, his head bent into his chest, his whole body is visibly shaking in his black combat armor. Stiles peers a little closer from his place in the corner, a dish rag still in his hand. From this angle Stiles can make out the garment Derek has pressed tightly to his chest, like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver- it’s Stiles blood-soaked hoodie. 

“Come on, Derek. Up we go.” Boyd is murmuring, trying to get the commander off the floor. “It’s going to be okay.”

“No.” Derek’s voice is unlike Stiles has ever heard it. It is shattered and hoarse, raw with fresh disbelief and pain. “No... Stiles!” 

“Derek-“ Boyd tries again. 

“No!” Derek looks up at his friend, eyes wide, tears pouring out. “No! He’s not gone! He’s not! I won’t believe it! No!” Derek is shouting by the end, shouting and clutching hoodie to his chest, tears pouring down his face. “You don’t understand!”

Boyd’s face is twisted with pain and the other two Wolves don’t look any better. “I know it’s hard,” Boyd says, crouched down next the commander. “We can’t do anything from here. We need to get back to the keep.”

“NO!” Derek says. “He’s close! I can feel it! Stiles is close and he needs me! I can’t leave! I can feel him!” 

“Derek, come on man.” Boyd sighs, his voice soft. “We followed the scent to the scene. You saw how old that blood was- a few days at least. “You saw how much of it there was. I think you need to accept... I’m sorry.” Boyd closes his eyes for a moment. “The field men said there was too much blood. They say there’s a good chance he wouldn’t have made it.” 

“NO!” Derek howls, clutching the bloody sweatshirt closer. “He’s not gone. I won’t believe it!” 

“Derek.” Garitty is down by the commander’s side now too, a pitying look on his face. “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you think I would know?” Derek demands desperately, looking in Boyd’s eyes. “Don’t you think I would feel it if Stiles was really gone?” Derek runs his fingers over the sweatshirt. “He’s so close. I can feel him. I can’t leave him!” 

“Commander Boyd-“ Lady Bridget is hovering around the Wolves now, her delicate face twisted in concern. “Is Derek alright?” 

“We just recovered a lot of the omega’s blood about four miles from here, Lady Bridget.” Lief murmurs to the mistress of the inn. 

“No!” Lady Bridget gasps, her hand flying to her mouth, a perfect picture of grief and concern. “Do you know where the omega is?” 

“We have every reason to believe he was murdered at the scene.” Lief says solemnly. “Have you had any problems with rogues in the area lately?”

“You know there are always rogues running through these parts.” Lady Bridget says palely. “But I can’t think of anything specific.” Lady Bridget’s eyes flicker over to where Stiles is trying to remain inconspicuous in the corner. “Do you want me to call Lady Hale and arrange transport for you all back to your keep?” Lady Bridget offers. 

“No!” Derek says, his face buried in Stiles’ hoodie. “I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere without Stiles!” 

“He’s taking this hard.” Lady Bridget murmurs softly, looking sorrowful. 

“He’s in denial.” Boyd sighs. He turns back to Derek, his hand on the alpha’s back. “It’s going to be okay, Derek. We need to take you home.” 

“No!” Derek moans, “I can’t... don’t make me leave him. Please. I can’t leave him...” Derek devolves into sobs. “I’m not leaving without Stiles!” 

“Derek,” Garitty says gently. “I’m a medic. You’ve been to a hundred death scenes with me before. Think about what we found. Think about what we saw.” Garitty swallows, sounding miserable. “I’m sorry, but you have to accept that he’s gone. Stiles is dead, Derek. I’m so sorry.” 

“I won’t believe it!” Derek repeats, shaking back and forth, his face hidden in Stiles’ hoodie. “It’s not true! Stop saying it! It can’t be true...” Derek’s voice breaks off. “I love him too much. He can’t be gone.” 

Boyd embraces Derek. The alpha is heaving and broken on the floor. Boyd looks over his shoulder at Stiles and calls, “You- boy! Bring us some water.” 

“I can do that for you, Commander Boyd.” Lady Bridget offers evenly. 

“No, you call Laura.” Boyd says to the lady. “The boy can bring us some water and clean towels.” 

“Alright.” Lady Bridget nods at Stiles, walking down the hall with a sweep of silk. 

Stiles hands are shaking as he fills a pitcher of cold well water and bundles some clean towels together. He feels as though someone has stolen his lungs and replaced them with lead. Derek is here and breaking apart before his eyes. The scene is surreal and terrifying and all Stiles wants to do is run and hide. Derek’s scent has never tasted so desperate, so miserable. It’s like poison in Stiles’ nose. His whole body aches all over. 

He walks back to the common room with the supplies numbly in faltering, shaking steps. He hands the towels and pitcher to Boyd cautiously, nearly spilling the water on the way. The Black Wolves don’t even look at him. All three are surrounding Derek, trying to coax their commander off the floor. Trying to reason with a broken man. 

“He’s gone, Derek.” Boyd is saying, washing Derek’s face with a clean towel. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.” 

“Then show me a body!” Derek growls through his tears. “Where is he then?” 

“You know what happens to the bodies of omegas out here.” Boyd murmurs. 

“Until you can give me a body I will never believe it!” Derek says. “He’s not gone! I know that. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy- I’m not crazy. I can feel him, Boyd. He’s so close I feel like I could reach out and touch him! I know he’s here with me! He wouldn’t leave me this way.” The alpha’s voice is high and desperate. 

“You’re grieving, Derek.” Boyd murmurs. “You’re in shock.”

“I’m not!” Derek states, his voice breaking again. “I just want Stiles...”

“I know.” Boyd says softly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Commander? The chopper’s out front.” Lady Bridget says, reemerging and fixing herself in front of Stiles, blocking the omega from view. 

“Thank you, Lady Bridget.” Body says, bundling Derek up. “Come on Derek, let’s go.” 

“No...” Derek whines softly, but Stiles watches as the alpha allows himself to be half-carried out the front door by the other wolves. “Stiles...”

The front door shuts and Stiles is left in the dark holding a towel numbly.


	53. Killing Blow

“Hey.” Lady Bridget comes up to Stiles’ tiny attic room, poking her elegant head through his door. “Are you okay?” 

Stiles is sitting on his small bed, staring blankly at the wall, unmoving, struggling just to breathe. 

Lady Bridget comes in and sits next to him quietly. She turns and looks at him sideways. Stiles is still mostly covered in his disguise. Silent tears are running down the omega’s face. The two friends sit in silence for a long moment, not speaking, not touching. 

“What happened?” Stiles finally asks, his voice raw. 

Lady Bridget sighs. “They’re gone now. I spoke to Commander Boyd before they left. They’re going to try to have you declared dead.” 

Stiles takes a shuddering breath. “Try?” He asks weakly. 

“Boyd thinks it will take a while for it to sink in with Derek.” Bridget swallows. “He knows the truth, you know. Derek could see through it.” She looks over at Stiles, her face neither judgmental nor encouraging, simply matter-a-fact. “He’s your alpha. Of course he knows.” 

“I didn’t ask for an alpha.” Stiles says brokenly. “I never asked for anything but a chance to live. That’s all I wanted.” The tears run down Stiles’ face, soundless and sad. “He’ll get over me.” Stiles looks at Bridget through his tears, not sounding like he believes his own words. “He’ll be okay.” 

“He is strong.” Bridget says softly. “He’s lived through grief before.” 

“Why does this hurt so much?” Stiles asks, his voice little more than a breath. 

“It always hurts when you lose a part of yourself.” Bridget says simply. “Even if you didn’t know you gave that part of yourself up.”

“I didn’t give up anything willingly.” Stiles says. “I didn’t want him to love me. I didn’t think he could.” 

“They teach people how to survive here.” Lady Bridget says. “Not how to love. Nobody ever tells you here that sometimes people belong to you without contracts, or assets, or protocol.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.” Stiles says dully.

“Maybe he belongs to you.” Bridget says. 

“He belongs to Kate.” Stiles says, closing his eyes. “He belongs to Westenra. He was never mine to take.”

“And yet you conquered him.” Lady Bridget says. “He surrendered himself to you long ago.” 

“I don’t know how to do this.” Stiles says simply. “Nothing about loving anyone has ever been part of me.” 

“It’s part of all of us.” Lady Bridget says. 

“I made my choice.” Stiles says, blinking back tears. “But this... what I’m feeling now... doesn’t feel like a choice.” 

“What are you feeling now?” Lady Bridget asks. 

“Like I’ve killed part of myself.” Stiles answers quietly. 

“In Westenra we think there is strength in killing.” Lady Bridget says. “Do you feel strong?” 

“No.” Stiles says. “I feel more powerless than ever.” 

There’s another long moment of silence. “There’s not a right answer here, Stiles.” Lady Bridget says. “Either way, you’ll be okay. You’re a survivor.” She leans over and kisses him on his brow. “Get some sleep. You’ll find clarity in the morning.”


	54. Barkeep

Five sleepless nights later Stiles is manning the bar numbly, serving food and drinks to a few weary travelers while Lady Bridget and the cook are at the market, when the front door opens and Derek trudges in. The alpha looks every bit as exhausted an careworn as Stiles, himself, and the omega is bit shocked to see him. Stiles quickly masks his surprise and pulls his scarf closer around his bandaged face self-consciously. Derek is armed per usual, but in civilian clothes, a dark coat wrapped around his muscular form. The Dark Prince sits at the end of the bar quietly, ignoring the other patrons, staring into his rough hands. 

“Can I help you, commander?” Stiles asks, ducking his head respectfully, his speech slow and slurred from the mouth piece. 

“Scotch.” Derek mutters. 

Stiles pours Derek a glass, his hands shaking slightly, and sets it in front of the alpha. 

“Leave the bottle.” Derek says gruffly, he glances up at the bandaged omega. “You were the omega here when my men and I came in last time, yes?” 

“Yes, commander.” Stiles mumbles softly. 

“Lady Bridget’s new help.” Derek says.

Stiles nods.

“May I see your papers?” Derek asks, looking innocent enough, merely curious. 

Stiles nods shyly and unloops the leather document pouch he wears around his neck. He cautiously passes the information to Derek, keeping his eyes down respectfully. 

“Shawn,” Derek reads. 

“Yes, commander.” Stiles nods, his tongue feeling thick and bloated in his mouth. 

“Farm 57-“ Derek looks up with interest. “My omega lived at Farm 57 for a while. Stiles Stilinski- did you know him?” 

“I’m sorry, commander.” Stiles mumbles. “I do not recall.” 

“You would have remembered him if you’d ever met him.” Derek says with a sad smile. “He is one of a kind. You probably never met him because he was always either in isolation or on run.” Derek shakes his head, staring into his drink. “He doesn’t care about getting punished though. He does what he wants.” Derek laughs a little sadly. 

“The missing omega, commander?” Stiles feels something twist inside of him, listening to Derek talk about himself. 

“Yes.” Derek looks grave and sighs. “My omega.” 

“Forgive me, commander,” Stiles starts tentatively, his speech lagging and awkward with the mouth piece. “But aren’t you engaged to a noblewoman, a beta?” 

“That’s what they tell me.” Derek’s lips twist woefully. 

“Forgive me, commander.” Stiles retreats quickly, turning to leave. 

“No, it’s alright.” Derek says. “I am engaged- yes. But the marriage is on hold right now. I can’t even think about it. I’ve told everyone I won’t act until Stiles is back. I meant that.” 

“I’m sorry, commander.” Stiles says, unsure of what else to say. “Is that what brings you here, commander? We’re in the middle of nowhere.” 

Derek smiles sadly again. “I had to come back.” He says. “I’m sure you heard. Everyone’s heard. They think Stiles is...” Derek sighs, breaking off. “Well, this place is a few miles from where they think he died.” Derek stares into his glass. “I don’t know why but I had to come back. I feel close to him here.” He looks up with a self-depreciating look. “I’m sure that sounds crazy to you.”

“I wouldn’t know, commander.” Stiles mumbles, turning back to the kitchen.


	55. Scotch

Stiles had stayed away from Derek as much as he could the rest of the night, fighting the pull the alpha had on him. He’d find himself staring at Derek from across the room, or glancing at the alpha sporadically, without even thinking. The alpha’s scent clung to Stiles and seemed to beckon him over, awakening a feeling in Stiles not unlike hunger. Stiles tamped down his instincts and busied himself in the kitchen as much as he was able, all the while hyper-aware of Derek’s presence. At the end of the night Derek left ‘Shawn’ a big tip and walked out into the darkness, leaving Stiles to breathe a sigh of... something. Relief? Perhaps. But it didn’t feel like that. 

“Derek was here last tonight.” Stiles mentions quietly to Lady Bridget when she gets home from the markets the next morning.

“What?” The lady says, her voice hushed. “Why?”

Stiles shrugs. “Looking for more clues maybe.” 

“Pig-headed alpha.” Lady Bridget says, shaking her head. “Doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone. He’s been this way since we were children.” 

“He came alone.” Stiles says, swallowing his morning herbs. “So at least there wasn’t a whole pack of Wolves this time.” 

“The fool has the whole of the country up in arms.” Lady Bridget mutters, reaching over for some flour. “The Argents were successful in getting you declared officially dead, you know.”

“They were?” Stiles raises an eyebrow. 

“They say there’s no reason to not go through with the marriage now that you’re technically accounted for. Lydia said Derek was furious.” Lady Bridget peers at the omega over the bowl of bread dough. “He still refuses to believe you’re dead.” She punches the dough. “You should count yourself lucky they’re not listening to him. Derek has always had the most sensitive protective instincts of any alpha I’ve ever met. It’s what makes him such a good merc. I’d believe him even if I didn’t know where you were.” Lady Bridget raises an eyebrow. “Quite frankly I’m surprised they’re not listening to him.” 

“They don’t want me to be alive.” Stiles notes. “I’m just a complication.”

“You are a complication.” Lady Bridget nods, “But Derek isn’t the only one who wants you to be alive. Word around the noblewomen is Laura is desperately clinging to hope that you’re still alive. She’s the reason why they haven’t pulled the BW packs in from the field despite the fact that you’ve been declared dead.” 

“Laura doesn’t know me.” Stiles says, confused.

“Laura has always indulged her brother.” Lady Bridget notes. “The fact that she’d get to stick it to Lady Kate if you were found alive is just the cherry on top for her. She could never stand that woman.” 

“Why is she letting Derek mate with her then?” Stiles asks. 

“The tribal council has been pushing for the marriage for years.” Lady Bridget says, sniffing in slight disdain. “They’re worried without a union between the two tribes civil war could break out. When Derek repudiated you they bullied the Hale tribe into this new union and I think Laura highly resents that.” 

“Oh wonderful.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Even after I’m dead everyone is trying to manipulate me.”

A few nights later Stiles is cleaning the bar again, watching the moon move through the windows, when the door opens and Derek walks in, shedding a leather coat. He smiles at Stiles and sits at the end of the bar. Stiles looks around desperately for the maid or Lady Bridget but nobody is in sight. The omega hobbles over to the vast shelf of spirits and takes to finest quality scotch down again, his hands trembling. Derek’s scent beckons to him from the bar, calling his name softly. Stiles pours a glass of the scotch and sets it before the alpha, keeping his gaze lowered. 

“Commander.” He says, softly. 

“Shawn,” Derek nods. “Is it always so quiet in here?”

“We’re a small inn, commander.” Stiles stutters around the words nervously

“Mmm.” Derek says taking a swig of his drink. “I prefer it this way.” He looks at the omega, considering. “How long have you been here, Shawn.”

“Only a few weeks, commander.” Stiles murmurs, avoiding eye contact. 

“And you came from the farm before that?” Derek asks.

“Yes, commander.” Stiles says. 

Derek’s eyes soften a little. “Are they as bad as they say?” 

Stiles looks at Derek for a moment before saying, “Worse,” truthfully. 

Derek’s frown deepens. “My omega lived in them until he was eleven. He only spoke of them once- the day we met, when he thought I’d return him to their custody.” Derek sighs. “What I wouldn’t give if it were possible to go back and ensure he’d never been in the farms to begin with. I think they turned him cold against people like a toxin.” 

“The farms are hardly a finishing school, commander.” Stiles says coldly. “No matter what they tell the alphas.” 

“I know they hurt him there.” Derek says gravely. “Like being on a different kind of front lines. He and I were the same in that way. We both had to enter the war too young.” 

“Will all due respect, commander,” Stiles says thickly. “The farms are nothing like the war.” 

“No?” Derek says, looking interested at the omega. 

“No.” Stiles says, his speech halting and slow. “In war you have a chance to fight back. The farms were slavery disguised as protection.” 

“But you got out.” Derek notes. “My omega got out too- a lot earlier than you.”

“It doesn’t mean you forget.” Stiles answers. “Please excuse me, commander. I have work to do.”

“I apologize if I’ve offended you.” Derek says. “My omega pervades my every waking thought and it’s made me rather insensitive to others.” 

Stiles wants to laugh but he simply lowers his eyes again and murmurs, “It is nothing, commander. You are right, of course. I got out. I am most fortunate.” 

“Fortunate to be working in an inn in the woods?” Derek raises his eyebrows. 

“Lady Bridget is most kind.” Stiles answers, stumbling slightly over his words under Derek’s scrutiny. 

“Would you not have preferred to be mated?” Derek asks. 

“No.” Stiles says. 

Derek looks like he doesn’t quite believe him. 

“There are very few options for omegas, commander.” Stiles says truthfully. “Even less for one like me. I had no wish to share a bed with someone who would have nothing but disdain for me.”

“I am a soldier.” Derek says. “I know many honorable men. Surely someone out there would value you in the way you deserve.”

“Deserve?” Stiles repeats. “I know it cannot have escaped your notice, commander, but I am an orphan of no status, no family, and a damaged one at that.” Stiles shakes his head. “I have no illusions about myself, commander.” 

“Damaged?” Derek asks, his eyebrows knitted together.

“Your politeness is nothing more than cruelty, commander. I know I am hardly ideal.” Stiles mutters. 

“What does ‘ideal’ have to do with love?” Derek asks, his eyes earnest. “Many did not find my omega ‘ideal’. He is an orphan as well. And his personality-“ Derek smiles a tiny grin at the memory. “Everything they say about him is true. He’s stubborn and argumentative. He couldn’t obey an order to save his life. Stiles wouldn’t submit before God, himself. A lot of people didn’t think he was ‘fit’ for me, whatever that means.” Derek scoffs, looking somehow both irritated and sad at the same time. “I don’t want anyone else. He’s mine and that’s all that matters to me.” 

“You are engaged to a lovely noblewoman, commander.” Stiles says. “Surely that’s a more advantageous match for you. Everyone says so.”

“Advantageous for whom?” Derek shakes his head. “The Argents? Whatever you’ve heard, know that Stiles and my’s engagement didn’t end because of some shortcoming on his part. It was I who wasn’t fit for him.” Derek sighs, a look of deep sadness coming over his face. “If I was worthy of him, he’d be safe and at home right now. I’ve failed him. I’ve failed him in all the ways an alpha can fail and all the ways I tried not to. All of my worst nightmares have come true and I have no one to blame but myself.” 

“Omegas die every day, commander.” Stiles swallows. 

Derek looks up sharply. “Stiles isn’t dead.” He says. “I know he’s out there.” Derek sighs, his eyes suddenly far away. “I can feel him. Here particularly. I couldn’t get this place out of my head.” Derek shakes his head. “I know he lives.”

Stiles swallows, feeling tense and like he almost can’t breathe. He needs to get out of here now. “Please excuse me, commander.” He mumbles, nearly tripping on himself. “I must check with the cook on something. Stiles turns a flees as quickly as his limp will let him.


	56. You Again

“You again?” Stiles says, eyeing the alpha over the bar. He’s cleaning up. It’s late again, nearly a week since Derek was last in. 

Derek is hunched over the bar, looking even more tired than usual. Stiles thinks the alpha may have aged a decade in the past week. Derek is silent for a nearly uncomfortably long moment before finally saying, “Me again.” 

Stiles doesn’t reply, he merely turns and gets the finest scotch off the shelf again and wordlessly pours the commander a crystal glass full. 

Derek takes a swig, downing the entire glass in one long gulp. “More.” He growls, motioning with his hand. Stiles pours him another. 

“Never took you for a drinker, commander.” Stiles notes quietly. 

Derek grunts in response. “Another.” He says.

Stiles pours him another, watching with quiet eyes. He turns and pours Derek a glass of icy goat’s milk. “This is better for what ails you, commander.”

Derek looks up at the omega, setting his half-finished glass of scotch down. “Have you ever been in love, Shawn?”

Stiles stares at the bleary alpha for a moment completely at a loss for words before turning back to his cleaning with a rag. “What kind of question is that, commander?” 

“An honest one.” Derek says picking up the glass of milk, considering. 

Stiles snorts. “What do you think, commander?”

Derek looks at the omega levelly over the glass of milk. “I think you have been.”

“Now I know you’re drunk.” Stiles laughs dryly. “Not all omegas are so quick to fall in love, commander, regardless of what you’ve heard.”

“That’s not what I said.” Derek says softly. “You asked what I thought. I think you’ve known love.” 

Stiles tries to smirk. “What makes you think that?”

“You’re too guarded. I see it in your eyes.” Derek notes, downing the goat’s milk. “Nobody gets that way on their own.” Derek looks back down at the bar. “I didn’t understand wanted to be closed to the world until now. I didn’t hate being alone until he left.” 

“You aren’t alone, commander.” Stiles says. “You have your family, your tribe.” Stiles pauses. “Your beta.”

“I love my family. I love my tribe.” Derek nods. “I would die for them. But he’s the one I wanted to live for.” Derek makes a fist. “In taking him from me I feel as though the whole world has turned its back on me. They love me. More than I deserve. But they don’t understand. So long as I do what is asked of me they are content. He was never content. He challenged me and tortured me in some ways. There is no one who will ever take his place.” Derek sighs. “I’m not saying I’m not one of the lucky ones. One of Westenra’s few fortunates. I should buck up and be a man. Be an alpha. But without him... I don’t want to.”

Stiles leans towards the alpha. “Did your omega love you, commander?”

Derek looks up. “I’m beginning to wonder if he ever really saw me. If I had loved him the way I should have, he wouldn’t be gone.”

“This is not the first person you’ve known to have fallen victim to this evil country, commander.” Stiles says quietly. “You got over the others, you will get over this one.”

“Did you get over yours?” Derek asks.

Stiles looks at him for a moment. “No.” He whispers. Stiles swallows, trying to busy himself. “But I will.”

“How do you know?” Derek asks, his eyes wet.

“There is no other way.” Stiles says. There’s another long pause. “I was engaged.” He says slowly. 

Derek looks up. “What happened?”

Stiles begins polishing a glass nervously. “What happens to most orphans, most throw-away omegas. I was repudiated.”

“Was it an arranged mating?” Derek asks.

“Of course it was.” Stiles says.

“And yet it hurt you when it ended.” Derek states.

“How could it not hurt?” Stiles asks shortly. “It may have been expected, but it was still another reminder of what I am.”

“You loved him then.” Derek says quietly.

“No.” Stiles says.

“I’m confused.” Derek says, look at the omega closely.

“I thought I could trust him.” Stiles says. 

“What was the reason for the repudiation?” Derek asks.

Stiles pauses. “I’m not sure I know.”

“Perhaps you should ask him.” Derek says. “If he was worthy of your trust once, perhaps he had his reasons.”

Stiles is silent a moment. He pours Derek another glass of goat’s milk. “Why did you repudiate your omega, commander?” He asks softly.

“He wanted me to.” Derek says, his face twisted in pain. “I couldn’t stand to watch him suffer any more. He fought against me so hard. He was very angry with me. I didn’t want to, God knows I didn’t.” Derek swallows, his voice high and filled with emotion. “But I love him. And I couldn’t hurt him like that.” The commander is shaking. “And even now I regret it. I wish I had never let him go.”

Stiles sighs. “Your omega would not wish you to be in pain, commander.”

“How could he possibly think being without him would be anything but agony for me?” Derek murmurs. “He knew how much I loved him.”

“You are pining, commander.” Stiles says. “It will pass. Your affections and your loyalty will return to your family soon. To your beta.”

“I’m not like that!” Derek says, slamming his fist down on the bar. “Nothing will take his place.” Derek shakes his head. “Not knowing is the worst. I dream of him every night. I see him killed in a thousand ways. I see him starving on the streets of Jackal City where I found him. It haunts me.” Derek sighs. “I smell him all the time. I’ll pick up his scent on the wind. Boyd thinks I’m going crazy. Nobody believes me. Nobody thinks he still lives. They don’t feel him like I do.”

“You still believe he lives, then?” Stiles asks softly. 

“I know it.” Derek says. “I know it. I feel him so close to me here. And as long as I can feel him, I’m not giving up.”


	57. Drunk Politics

“Are you just... not happy unless you’re harassing an orphan or what’s the deal?” Boyd asks, one eyebrow eschew as he and the commander enter the inn. “I don’t think you should be spending so much time here or drinking or drinking here.” Boyd sighs. “If you have to become an alcoholic I don’t see why you can’t do it at home where I can keep an eye on you. Your sister is going to have me publically executed.”

“You’re looking at exile- tops.” Derek smirks at his friend. “And anyways we’re here on business.”

“The business of crazy...” Boyd mutters.

It’s dark and there are very few other patrons there. Shawn is shuffling slowly behind the bar per usual. The omega is a homely thing, Derek thinks. If he hadn’t gotten to know the reserved omega better he’d had never guessed that the omega had once been engaged. Although clearly intelligent, the omega was disfigured in some way- this usually spelled a lifetime alone for an orphan. Physically Shawn is so unlike Derek’s Stiles. Stiles is so beautiful he made Derek lose his mind whenever he had been in the same room as the omega. Derek had spent most of his time in Stiles’ presence utterly tongue-tied, nervous, unable able to do anything more than bark orders or vomit convoluted sentences all over the omega. And Stiles- Stiles with his fearlessness and his sharp wit had been rightfully rueful of Derek’s communication inadequacies. Stiles had looked at the Dark Prince of Westenra and hadn’t batted an eye. Nothing cowed his beautiful brave omega. Shawn is the only other omega Derek’s ever really talked with, and he’s so different than Stiles, and yet similar in some odd, instinctual way. While Shawn is infinitely more reserved and respectful than Stiles ever was, he is brave in the same dignified way. Shawn looks at Derek and is unafraid. While both omegas had been socially the lowest of the low, they both look at Derek like there is some deficiency on the alpha’s part- like Derek is the one who is undeserving of their company. They both make Derek want to be better in some intangible way.

Lady Bridget is in the corner, sitting at an antique grand piano singing longue style while playing with her graceful hands. The beta is crooning some old American song.

“ _I fall in love whenever we meet,_ ” She sings, her voice deep and sultry.

“Don’t be shy,” Derek calls over to Shawn across the bar. “Boyd doesn’t bite. This is my second in command, you remember Boyd, don’t you?”

Shawn shuffles hesitantly across the bar over to the alphas, his face down. The omega self-consciously pulls his scarf closer around his face.

“Commanders,” The omega slurs. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to talk to Lady Bridget.” Derek says. “How are you today, Shawn?”

“Much the same as last we spoke, commander.” Shawn says moodily. The omega turns and pours two crystal glasses of scotch for the Wolves. He adds a third glass of frosty goat’s milk next to Derek’s glass. Boyd eyes it. “It’s for the commander’s stomach.” Shawn tells him. “The goat milk settles it.”

“He’s been coming in often, then?” Boyd asks.

“He’s been here a lot, yes.” Shawn says unabashedly, turning back towards the kitchen.

“Derek,” Boyd turns, glowering lowly at his friend. “Really? A dive bar with a disfigured omega? No wonder Kate threw a vase at you the other day.”

“Kate threw a vase at me the other day because she’s a spoiled child.” Derek says, taking a swig of milk.

“No, she threw a vase at you because you’re not taking your engagement seriously.” Boyd corrects him.

Derek shrugs.

“Really?!” Boyd squeaks. “That’s it?”

“I’m really not taking the engagement seriously.” Derek says. “I never claimed to be taking it seriously- ever. I told everyone that I’m not doing a thing until Stiles comes back.”

“Derek, I know you’re grieving and I’m sorry about that- I am. His death was tough on everyone.” Boyd says. “But you keep coming back to this bar because this is where he died. You know he’s not coming back.”

“I’m his alpha, Boyd.” Derek says steadily, drowning the scotch in one gulp and pouring himself another. “I know he’s close. I know he’s alive. I don’t care what you or Laura or the Argents say.”

“Well the ball to celebrate your engagement is next week.” Boyd says. “All of the tribe families will be there- it’s kind of a big deal.”

“Wasn’t my idea.” Derek shrugs, pouring himself a third.

“Well, I’m required to make sure you’re there sober, in a tux, by Kate’s side.” Boyd grumbles. “Don’t fuck this up for me, man.”

“Let’s invite Shawn!” Derek says as the omega walks back into the room.

“You’re drunk.” Boyd and Shawn say at the same time, each looking completely unimpressed.

“It’s a good idea.” Derek says.

“Sure. Let’s invite your omega bartender to your engagement ball.” Boyd rolls his eyes. “I’m sure that’s exactly how he’d like to spend his Saturday night. It’s bad enough that you roped me into this.”

“Nah... Shawn’s cool.” Derek slurs. “It’ll be fun!” He says this slapping Shawn on the back. The omega jerks away, affronted.

“I’ll put him on the list if that’s what you want.” Boyd says skeptically.

“I really don’t think that’s a good-“ Shawn starts.

“Yes!” Derek says. “That’s what I want. My best friend,” He swings an arm around Boyd, “and my bartender!”

“Shawn, why is there a drunk Hale at my bar?” Lady Bridget appears smoothly.

“Because God hates me?” The omega mutters.

“Aw shit!” Boyd says, looking down at his wrist communicator. “I’ve got to go, Derek. They have some kind of emergency at the base.” He looks up at Shawn. “Can you make sure he, you know- doesn’t die?”

“Of course, commander.” Lady Bridget says. “We’ll make sure he makes it back to Blackden alright.”

“Thanks,” Boyd says, throwing down a wad of money. “That should cover the damage.” The BW all but runs out the door, muttering into his wrist.

“You wanted to speak to me, Lord Hale?” Lady Bridget says, eyeing the commander.

“Yes!” Derek slurs. “My sister says there’s been several inquiries out of the Martin tribe about the Dormer tribe to the tribal council over the last few weeks.”

“The Dormers are extinct.” Lady Bridget doesn’t so much as blink. “I don’t see what kind of inquiries could be made.”

“Well, some scientists think there is a possibility they could resurface.” Derek says, downing another scotch. Shawn wordlessly pushes another cup of milk at the alpha. “The inquiries are anonymous- all that’s known is it is someone within the Martin noble family. They allege it was unconstitutional for the Hales to absorb the Dormers and that, should the tribe’s genetics reemerge, they should have the right to reestablish as the 13th individual tribe with its own sovereignty.”

“Only you would try to talk politics while stinking drunk.” Lady Bridget sniffs. “What is your point commander?”

“Laura sent me here to find out what you know.” Derek says, gulping at another glass of scotch. “And because she’s punishing me. I don’t give a shit about the hors d'oeuvre for my engagement party and I’m not gonna pretend to! Also! Don’t care about the centerpieces. Half the fucking country is starving and Kate wants orchids shipped in from Japan or some shit... dumb broad...” Derek mutters. He looks up at Lady Bridget, pointing drunkenly. “Stiles didn’t care about flowers!”

“How would you know?” Shawn mutters.

“So who’s making inquiries, Bridgy?” Derek asks. “Remember when I used to call you that as kids?”

“Yes.” Bridget sniffs. “Frankly I have no idea, Derek. I know that Lady Martin has a number of pet projects but she’s been quite busy of late with BWT. I’ll keep an eye out though.” The lady turns to Shawn. “We need to get him up into one of the rooms. He’s too drunk to make it home.”


	58. Chest to Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hwu2qFNoNmo

“Why are you looking at me?” Stiles eyes Lady Bridget. 

“What? You don’t think I can get him upstairs, do you?” Lady Bridget says. Derek is laying in a pool of his own drool on the bar now, his eyes half closed.

“I’d rather not try, Bridget, if you know what I mean.” Stiles hisses through gritted teeth. “As in taking the ex to bed isn’t really in my job description.”

“Well taking your ex to bed is impossible for me.” Lady Bridget sniffs. “Just get him up to suite 2 and lay him on the bed. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Stiles sighs, rolling his eyes, he hauls Derek up under his arms and pulls him up off the bar stool. “Come on,” He grits out, “Let’s go. Wake up!”

Derek makes some grumpy alpha noise, and rests most of his weight against Stiles. The omega glares at Lady Bridget and begins hauling the alpha towards the elevator. Once safely inside, Stiles props the practically comatose alpha up on the side and pulls out his mouth piece. It’s impossible for Stiles to breathe while hauling the rock solid alpha around with the retainer in, so he sticks it in his pocket, irritated. Derek’s eyes are fully closed now, and the alpha is barely standing on his own. Derek teeters precariously as Stiles half-drags the soldier down the hall into the second suite, grumbling the whole time. Derek is heavy, but Stiles just manages to get him to fall backwards like five pounds of yogurt in a two pound bag on to the bed. The alpha’s mouth is open and his eyes are shut, in a dead black out. Stiles rolls his eyes, sweating, and tries to shoulder the alpha on to his side. 

“You’re lucky I love you enough to not want you to die by choking on your own vomit, you giant ass.” Stiles mutters, his mouth feeling normal for once, free from the mouth piece. “Should just let you stew in your own alpha juices...” Stiles is pushing and rolling the larger man over when Derek mutters something unintelligible and reaches out in his drunken stupor, grabbing Stiles’ wrist, holding it fast in a steel grip. “Ugh.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Let go Commander Handsy! I have work!” 

But Derek isn’t letting go. The alpha lets out a sort of low moan and his eyes flutter a little. Derek has Stiles’ hand trapped in his vice-like fingers and is pulling it blindly up to his face. The drunken alpha is smelling lightly at Stiles’ fingers, his breath tickling the pads of Stiles’ hand. Derek’s tongue snakes out experimentally and licks softly at Stiles’ fingers, before the alpha pulls Stiles’ hand forwards to kiss his skin hungrily. 

“Ah, come on, Derek. Stop it!” Stiles rolls his eyes, trying to jerk his hand back from the pleasantly ticklish sensation. “You don’t know where that’s been.” 

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek slurs around kisses, his eyes still closed. “Come back to bed.”

“What?!” Stiles almost yells, jerking his hand away. This was a bad idea. At the loss of Stiles’ hand, Derek is pulling at the omega’s torso adamantly, causing Stiles to loose his balance and topple down on the alpha. “I’m not Stiles, you idiot!” Stiles says, trying to push himself off Derek’s warm, inviting chest. “I’m Shawn. Your bartender! Remember?! Stiles is dead!” 

Derek arms are like steel bands, pulling him in close to that warm, deliciously-smelling chest. Derek presses his face to Stiles’ bandaged neck, pulling off the omega’s scarf and nosing at Stiles’ neck and under his ear. Stiles feels himself growing warm at the feelings of Derek’s hands wandering all over his body, caressing his sides and back, soothing him close to the alpha. 

“You smell weird, Stiles.” Derek slurs, running his hands down the sensitive parts of Stiles’ back. “You don’t smell like me.” 

“I’m not Stiles.” Stiles tries again, but God Derek’s scent should be illegal. His hands too. Stiles hates it, but he enjoys the feeling of closeness between them, has missed this even. He feels as though he’s been thirsty for the alpha’s touch, Derek’s affection, craving it like a tall glass of ice water after a year in the desert. There is something deeply shameful in this, but when Derek begins kissing Stiles’ face softly, mouthing over his eyelids, his brow, and then down under his jaw, Stiles can’t seem to remember why. “Take Derek up to a room, she says.” Stiles mutters. “What could go wrong? She says...”

“Fuck, but I love you, Stiles.” Derek breathes into his ear. “...Think about you all the time.” 

“I wasn’t aware you could think while pissed on scotch.” Stiles mutters, feeling ticklish sensations begin to thrill up and down his spine. 

“You have such a smart mouth...” Derek slurs, in between licking under Stiles’ ear, his teeth pulling on Stiles’ earlobe playfully. “Your lips make me crazy... so soft, so perfect... my omega.” 

Derek leans forwards and captures Stiles’ lips in his. The alpha is forceful and demanding, not so much hungry as starved for Stiles’ mouth. Stiles feels a gasp catch in his throat as Derek presses him so tightly in his arms, awakening his skin and making it sing with flickering sensations of light and color. Derek’s tongue is licking its way into Stiles’ mouth, petting his lips with demanding little strokes. Stiles groans into the alpha and opens his mouth, letting Derek invade and conquer. It’s all a bit much, really, and at the same time not enough. Stiles has only ever been close like this with Derek, has only let anyone but Derek touch him- not counting the failed maneuver with Cutter. Stiles has spent so much of his life in a blind panic, he actually hasn’t thought much about sex, but here, lying chest to chest, pressed up so safely, so securely to the only alpha Stiles has ever felt anything for, he can’t help but feel a dead heat pooling in his stomach. Stiles’s eyes are blown wide open, his breath coming quicker now, not entirely sure what his body is going through. He aches all over, and yet it’s nothing like pain. It’s a burning that ebbs and flows in his veins and under his skin. He’s hard and wet and all he wants is more pressure, more friction between him and Derek, but he’s not sure how to get what he wants- what he needs.

“Derek!” Stiles gasps out, rolling his hips against the alpha’s solid thigh, a little frightened, a little exhilarated. 

“It’s okay, baby.” Derek murmurs drunkenly. “I’ve got you. I’m here.” The alpha pets Stiles’ back and nibbles at Stiles’ neck, huffing in irritation at the bandages. “God, you feel good, baby.” The alpha pants in Stiles’ ear. “Love you like this... so wet... I can smell you... think about you like this all the time...” 

“You do?” Stiles whispers, feeling his face heat, but unable to help himself. He nuzzles closer to the alpha’s neck, to the source of that incredible scent. 

“Yeah,” Derek groans, his hands roaming everywhere, huge and hot, toying with Stiles’ body in the most amazing ways. “Think about ways to make you hot and wet... how to make you feel how much I love you... how to take care of you... I’ll give you everything you need...” Derek has ripped away the bandages by now and is licking his way up Stiles’ neck, worshiping his omega’s skin with his lips and tongue.

“I wish things were that easy.” Stile murmurs, kissing Derek’s brow the same way the alpha has to him before. 

“I love you...” Derek murmurs, his words slurring, tucking his head under Stiles’ neck. The drunken alpha is beginning to fade back into unconsciousness again. “Just let me love you, Stiles...” 

“You’ll wake up tomorrow.” Stiles says softly in Derek’s ear, feeling the alpha growing lax and sleepy around him again. “And you’ll remember why- why I can’t. Why this isn’t that simple.” Stiles slides out of Derek’s arms carefully, with a regretful face. He tucks a blanket around the alpha tenderly, before leaning forwards to press a soft kiss on Derek’s already sleeping lips. “You’ll remember that I’m gone. And why I can’t stay.”


	59. I Bleed You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Die for You  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDctC82umBk

Stiles’ face is wet by the time he gets down the stairs and his head is pounding like two hammers are at it on either side of his skull. He collapses at the end of the stairs, curling himself in a corner, just holding himself, bandages unraveling around his shaking body. He doesn’t even hear Lady Bridget come up by him, touching his shoulder gently. 

“Come with me,” She says softly, pulling Stiles up and into her boudoir, carefully glancing around after them to ensure they weren’t seen. She pulls Stiles down on a chair, handing him a handkerchief from her vanity. “Darling, what is the matter?” 

Stiles can’t speak for a moment, he just shakes his head. Finally he peaks out, feeling weak and lost. Feeling unlike a soldier or a warrior at all. 

“Will you be able to get me out?” He finally asks. 

“We got you out.” Lady Bridget says, dabbing at her red lipstick. “You have a new identity. You are dead to the world.”

“I mean, out... away.” Stiles says, his voice shaking, miserable. 

“I thought you had no desire to leave Westenra.” Lady Bridget says. “You know smuggling you out is another thing entirely. I’m not sure it could even be done.” 

“I don’t want to leave.” Stiles says, letting out a little sob. “I just...” He hides his eyes again.

Lady Bridget makes a sympathetic noise and moves to put her hand on his knee. “What is it, love?” She asks. “It’s not like you to be so... indecisive.” 

“I don’t want to feel like this.” Stiles finally admits. “I feel weak... and confused. Lost.” Stiles’ voice is small and infinitely despairing. “I’m supposed to be this... gifted person. Strong. Resilient. I survived the farms. I was the first omega accepted to the BW. I successfully faked my own death. And yet... I feel...” Stiles closes his eyes. “I’m so ashamed.” 

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, darling.” Lady Bridget says. “You are strong and ingenious- everything they say about you is true. You need not fear your own feelings- none of them are wrong.” 

“These are.” Stiles says quietly. “I know they are. They’re stupid and wrong and they just need to get out of my stupid weak omega brain!” He lets out a frustrated sob. 

“Darling,” Lady Bridget frowns.

“My alpha is upstairs.” Stiles finally admits, his voice flat, sad and dead. “He’s upstairs and he’s mine... I know he is. And all I want to do is go to him.” Stiles shakes his head. “He threw me away. He didn’t want me. And all I want to do is go back to him, curl up beside him and be there when he wakes. I’m a fool.” Stiles lets out a shuddering breath. “I hate myself.” 

“What is so wrong about loving him?” Lady Bridget asks. “I know you haven’t had the best relationship, but you can always start new. You can always talk to him.”

“You know as well as I, going back to Derek is going back to slavery.” Stiles says numbly. “Only now I’d be worse than a slave. I’d be a slave in love with his master.” Stiles sighs. “I want to be with my alpha, but not like this. Never like this. But Westenra needs him. And he needs a wife who isn’t constantly fighting him.”

“He wants you.” Lady Bridget says. “He knows when something is right in his heart- just as you do. You know, as much as you may hate it, alphas and omegas exist for a reason. Alphas want to protect, want to nourish their omegas. Omegas want to open their alphas eyes to love, to new ways of thought. This is the alpha omega social contract at its core. And I see nothing bad about that in itself. It has worked in the past, you know. There have been happy alpha and omega couples. Many of them. Ones who love each other as you and Derek love each other.” 

“You know I cannot be with him as we are.” Stiles says. “He’ll just leave me. Just as they all do.” 

Lady Bridget looks at him, considering. “What if I could get you right of repudiation. What if I could get you your own land, your own resources?” 

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks. “I’m in no position to work for anything like that.”

“There are those of us who believe it is your birthright.” Lady Bridget says. “The Dormers had a small keep of their own before they were absorbed. The Hales maintain it to this day. They had their own small army and their own treasury. The Hales maintain those as well. Of course the army has been absorbed into Derek’s men, but it was a simple enough matter to trace the family lines of the current soldiers back to their original loyalties. In what I found, around two thousand of the current Hale soldiers should be loyal to the Domer tribe. Hardly enough to wage an independent war, but more than enough to furnish a keep and protect yourself.” Lady Bridget looks innocent. “I’ve been lying to my dear childhood playmate, Derek, quite a bit lately it would seem. I’m afraid he’ll never forgive me should he ever find out.” 

“I don’t want to be a lord.” Stiles says. “I don’t want to run an army or a tribe. I just want to live free.”

“You were given a chief’s education, Stiles.” Lady Bridget sniffs. “You attended BWT with my cousin who will run a tribe one day as well as the future Lord Cutter. You would not be without allies.”

“This is ludicrous.” Stiles says, staring at Lady Bridget. “Laura would never agree to separate the Dormer tribe away from her own again. That’s insane.”

“Is it?” Lady Bridget asks, her eyebrows raised. “Is it insane? Well, I have it on good authority that a certain Argent heiress is driving Lady Hale insane at the moment. There is no telling what she’d be willing to do to get rid of that particular future sister-in-law.”

“I am not killing Kate Argent.” Stiles says. “Even if I kind of want to... god, I’m such an omega!”

“Nobody needs to kill the Argent woman.” Lady Bridget says. “Trust me- we’ve all thought about it. But Derek will never go through with the marriage if you were to resurface.” 

“How am I supposed to do that?” Stiles asks. “Laura won’t give up the Dormer legacy- she thinks I’m dead and I’m the only known Dormer heir. If I come back from the dead without any standing or rights- this could go really, really badly. I could be right back where I started only, you know- they’d never let me escape again.”

“I have a plan for that.” Bridget says, looking dubious. “But Shawn will have to go to Kate and Derek’s engagement. There are some things that can only be done with all of the tribal elder present.” 

“That sounds... terrible.” Stiles sighs. “Why there of all places?” 

“Trust me.” Lady Bridget says. “And try not to beat yourself up. All love is a form of slavery. Be gentle to yourself.” The lady gets up and kisses Stiles on the forehead.


	60. The Dormer Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ny7NZPfl0l4

“Ah yes, Lady Lydia and Lady Bridget,” Laura says rising from the large throne-like chair in her office as the other two noblewomen enter. “Shall I assume it’s been your office, Lydia, that’s been sending me veiled threats regarding the Dormer legacy?” The defacto leader of Westenra eyes her young friend from across her broad desk.

All three women are dressed in luxurious silk gowns, their silken hair perfectly styled. Laura is a warrior queen in Hale black, sleek and beautiful. Lydia is also wearing the onyx color of the Black Wolves, an indication of her future rank. Bridget is angelic in the Martin tribe’s traditional color. All three women have red lips and pointed white teeth. All three carry concealed weapons. All three know how to use them. 

“Laura, I’m hurt.” Lydia says with a flawless smile. “There was nothing threatening about those missives. And nothing veiled.” She takes out a sparkling minaudiere and pulls out some paperwork from it. She slides the papers across the desk to Laura. 

“What’s this?” The chieftess asks.

“It’s the results of DNA tests from three different independent American scientists confirming that an omega has surfaced who is the genetic heir of the Dormer tribe.” Lady Bridget says. 

“The genetic heir to the Dormers has already surfaced.” Lady Laura says. “That omega is currently AWOL, believed to be dead.” 

“That may be true,” Lady Lydia says, “But the omega whose DNA supplied those results is currently being sheltered by the Martin tribe.” 

“By all rights, his rights should belong to the Hales.” Laura says. “We took an oath to protect the Dormers when we absorbed them. By the law, you should hand him over to our care.”

“The Dormer-Hale Treaty hasn’t been upheld in generations.” Lady Lydia says. “And the Martins maintain it was never constitutional to begin with. I am willing to go to the council with this, Laura.”

“The council will never go against my desires!” Laura says, her eyes flashing. 

“I wouldn’t be so certain.” Lady Martin says. “I am not without my allies- particularly where the Dormer Treaty is concerned. I suspect the rest of the chiefs will be eager to agree with my tribe when we tell them what happened to the last Dormer omega to surface and be under Hale care. Absent without leave and presumed dead. Our greatest biological asset in generations and you couldn’t even get him mated to the most eligible bachelor in the country without losing him!” 

“You would come into my keep on the eve of my brother’s engagement party and threaten me?!” Laura hisses, enraged.

“Let’s cut the shit.” Lady Bridget says with her usual beta common sense. “The three of us are the most powerful women in Westenra. But should things continue on the current path we all know it won’t stay that way. There is another who is plotting to take our place as we speak. Yes, even yours, Laura.” Lady Bridget eyes the other two. “Laura, your dream is to have the Dormers reemerge within the Hale tribe- that is still possible, but not if your brother marries the Argent woman. Our tribe is currently harboring the heir of the Dormers- and no matter what you might think, it isn’t out of political ambition or material gain for the Martins alone.”

“Why are you doing it then?” Laura asks coldly.

“The omega asked for sanctuary.” Lydia says. “I will not, in good conscience, betray him. Either you agree to allow the Dormers to govern independently again and legally turn over his birthright treasury, land, and army, or I will personally ensure he will disappear and, most likely, the Dormer bloodline will disappear with him. We only ask for justice, Laura. For what is right.”

Laura sighs. “Is there a reason I cannot meet with this heir, myself?” 

Lady Bridget looks the chieftess in the eye. “He is well aware of what happened to Stiles. He has no wish to leave himself vulnerable to the other tribes without legal rights. If, and only if, you sign over the dormer assets to him, as is his birthright- he has agreed to come out of hiding and partake in court life as a chief should.”

“Why should I entrust the Dormer legacy to a stranger?” Lady Laura asks. “What kind of omega is fit to rule?”

“A Dormer omega.” Lady Lydia says. “I assure you- even you, Laura, would not find him unfit to rule.” She takes out another set of papers from her purse. “I had the Martin legal council draw up a new treaty between the thirteen current tribes and the re-instated Dormer tribe. All you need do is sign them.” She pushes the papers at Laura. “Bridget and I are some of your oldest friends, Laura. I am not now, nor ever will be an enemy of the Hale tribe. I thought you trusted me as a person and a states woman. Trust me now- this is the right thing to do.”

Laura looks over the papers with a keen eye. “I just don’t understand the Martin motives for this.” She says.

“We all know Westenra is heading for a change. The Dormers must reemerge in order for our society to survive.” Lady Martin says. “But I confess I have a personal reason for this as well.” She looks conspiratorially at Laura. “I know for a fact that if the Dormer heir reemerges it will stop your brother’s engagement in its tracks. What I wouldn’t do to dethrone that sow the Argents have the nerve to pass off as a lady. Tell me, Laura- do you want the Hale name tied to her forever?”

Laura looks over the papers at the other two ladies. “The only thing that will stop that particular Argent is a Dormer.” She says quietly. “I’ve tired every other way. Derek has Rubrum Jus status and only he can call this engagement off- but he won’t. The Argents and the council have convinced him that his men will be ensured financial and social security with their union. He’s so depressed since Stiles’ death, he’s willing to sacrifice his own happiness for his men.” She picks up a pen. “If you can guarantee that my brother will call off his marriage to the Argent woman I will sign over the assets to the Dormer heir.” 

“I can’t guarantee that your tribe will end up with Dormer babies.” Lydia says. “But I can guarantee when the heir goes public, you won’t end up with Argent nieces or nephews.” 

Laura nods, solemnly. “Very well, Lady Martin. I will take your word on your honor as a warrior and a future chieftess. And as my friend. I will sign over the Dormer assets effective immediately to the Dormer heir under the stipulation that he publically take his place as head of the 14th tribe of Westenra.” She leans over and signs the paper with a flourish. “To be ratified tonight in front of the whole of the tribal council.” She looks over her shoulder to the doors that lead to the receiving room connected to her office. “I believe they are waiting for us as we speak, ladies.” 

“You’re doing the right thing, Laura.” Lady Bridget says smiling. 

“I can only hope so.” Lady Laura says straightening. “When will the heir emerge?”

“When he is ready.” Lady Bridget says. “I suspect... tonight though.”

Lady Laura whirls around. “The Dormer heir is here? Tonight? At the keep?” 

Lady Lydia laughs. “You think I’d risk losing a Dormer omega, Laura? Some of us learn from others' mistakes.” 

Lady Laura looks irritated, but she turns back on her flawless expression as she opens the doors to her receiving room, revealing a room with all other twelve members of the High Westenra Tribal Council. “Gentleman, Ladies,” She says, Laura’s voice dignified and clear, “I have exciting news.”


	61. Dynasty

“Where is Shawn?” Derek is pulling at his dress blacks looking remarkably uncomfortable in the ballroom next to his mate-to-be. 

Derek is nearly out of his head. He knows he and reality haven’t exactly been on good terms since Stiles’ blood-soaked clothing had been found in woods, but he’s been seriously fucked since waking up at Lady Bridget’s inn a few days ago. He’d woken fully clothed in a strange bed in the inn, completely out of his mind, smelling Stiles all over him. He can’t quite recall, but he thinks he’d been having an incredible dream where Stiles- his Stiles had been in his arms, kissing him, letting Derek touch him all over and gentle him. And it had been right and good and perfect. The dream had quickly turned into a living nightmare when Derek had awoken alone, hungover to hell, still hallucinating his omega’s scent and taste, feeling as though he had lost Stiles all over again. Derek longed for Stiles in a physical, aching, chronic way. He’d gotten up, left a wad of cash at the bar, and called for a chopper back to base, miserable and cold. He’s been silent ever since, all of his energy and thoughts devoted to quelling the sharp ache in his gut for Stiles. 

“Who is Shawn?” Kate snips quietly out the side of a faux smile. The beta is wrapped in navy silk and positively dripping with diamonds. Derek thinks the Argents must have raided several European museums to deck the heiress out so gaudily.

“The barkeep at Lady Bridget’s.” Derek says pettily, knowing it will irritate her. 

Kate’s smile remains in tact as she waves to some guests like a small town beauty queen, but her voice is positively vicious. “Really, Derek? It’s our engagement ball and you’re looking for a bartender?”

“Technically I’m looking for the scotch that usually comes with him.” Derek mutters. 

“You really think now is a good time to be drinking?” Kate hisses.

“No, I think an hour ago would have been a good time to be drinking.” Derek says. 

“You are unbelievable!” Kate whispers harshly. “Do you have any idea what’s at stake here?” 

“A ten carat engagement ring?” Derek sighs.

“You are so hurtful.” Kate says, wincing. “But I understand. And I’m willing to go through all of this, all the exhausting planning, all the tedious wedding coordinating, finding caterers, I even went to America for a wedding gown- that’s how much I love you.”

Derek stares at her. “You think planning a wedding is a sacrifice? You don’t even have a budget. You should by the way, but I know you don’t. The Westenra Defense Department has a budget- but our wedding doesn’t. Do you know how messed up that is?”

“I’m even willing to put up with your two bitch sisters.” Kate continues through her shiny smile. “All because I care about you and your men.” 

“I don’t know what you care about, but it isn’t my men.” Derek growls.

“The hell it isn’t.” Kate says icily. “Poor Derek, so naive. Change is coming to Westenra even if you don’t want to believe it. There are rumors out there that the Cutters and the Martins are making some kind of alliance and they’re going to try to get the McCall heir on their side as well. You know why they’re doing this, Derek- they’re trying to undermine you and your tribe. They’re challenging the old Westenra powers. They don’t respect you. We Argents know how traitorous the Martins are. That Lydia has had it out for me since prep school. They think they can take the Hale dynasty down. But with us together- the Hales and the Argents; we’ll be unstoppable. Nobody would ever be able to question our authority once we’re wed. Your tribe, your men, they’ll all be ensured a future at the top of the food chain with me as your mate.”

Derek frowns. “Lady Martin is an old friend of my sister’s and she is one of my recruits. I refuse to believe she would plot against my family. The Hales have always had a deep historical relationship with the Martins. I respect Lydia- she’s intelligent and asset to the BW.” 

“Derek,” Kate shakes her head. “You are too trusting. There isn’t the honor among warriors that there once was. Lydia Martin thinks she can play you like a fiddle- don’t prove her right. I have it on good authority she and that insane cousin of hers have been plotting something big- something that could restructure the power in this country. And I’ve been told that it will be at the Hale’s expense. We must strike while the iron is hot, my darling, before it’s too late.” She takes both Derek’s hands in her own, leaning close to him. “Derek please, I’m only trying to make you see what we could be together- what we will be together. You and I will create a new dynasty. Our children will be so beautiful.” 

But Derek doesn’t seem to be listening. The alpha’s eyes are very far away and his face is upturned towards the stairs. 

“Do you smell that?” He asks softly, seemingly to no one in particular. He drops Kate’s hands unceremoniously. “What is that?” The alpha turns slowly, like someone possessed and takes off in the opposite direction.


	62. Lord Dormer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfOeANDsXbA

“Boyd!” Kate shrieks a the Dark Prince of Westenra begins single-mindedly stalking out of the ballroom. “Do something!”

Boyd jogs after his friend, his nose too in the air now. “Derek! Where are you going? What-“ Recognition sparking in his eyes. “Oh no. Come on Derek- use your head! It could be a trap. He’s dead, man!”

Derek doesn’t slow, doesn’t even look back, he’s winding the halls with in creasing speed, Kate, Boyd, Garitty and Duncan all following him. “He’s not dead. Don’t you smell that?! He’s here somewhere. My omega is here...”

“Derek, stop it!” Kate yells after him, her Jimmy Choos clicking on the floor. 

Derek doesn’t hear her, they’re in the vast wine cellars of the Hale keep now, Derek hunting around, throwing kegs sideways, at last they come to a cedar door, Kate and the three other Black Wolves staring at the alpha. Derek inhales into the air before growling, deep and low in his before backing up and running forwards, effectively breaking down the door. When the dust clears Kate, Derek, and the Black Wolves find themselves staring at the astonished faces of Lady Laura, Lady Martin, Lady Bridget, Lord Cutter the Elder, and eleven other tribal chiefs. 

“Derek!” Lady Laura gasps.

“So much for a ‘secret’ conference room, eh Lady Hale?” Lord Cutter the Elder laughs with the same drawl his son uses.

Derek isn’t paying attention to anyone or anything, however. The alpha is wide-eyed, nearly hyperventilating, he’s weaving his way over to on of the chairs. Derek drops to his knees before Shawn, his face infinitely confused, desperate, and searching. 

“Shawn?” Derek breathes, in between deep sniffs. The alpha’s hands are all over, pulling at the omega’s clothing, ripping off scarves and bandages, his nose skimming the omega’s skin. “What-“  
“Lady Hale, would you please restrain your brother from molesting the Dormer chief.” Lady Bridget says.

“It's okay, Bridget.” The new Dormer chief says softly. He inelegantly spits out a mouth piece and places it in the pocket of his robe, looking down at the befuddled alpha. “Derek,” He says. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“I know who you are.” Derek breathes, tears in his eyes as he reaches up and gently pulls off the bandages from Stiles’ face. A gasp goes up around the room.

“What is this?!” Kate screams, barreling into the secret room. “Derek- get up!”

Derek is completely oblivious to his fiancé. “Stiles...” He breathes and then presses his face into the omega’s lap, weeping violently. 

“Derek!” Kate snarls viciously heading towards the alpha. “Get up this instant! We have guests! Get away from that disgusting omega-“

“Lord Argent, I would thank you if you would have your horrible sister address the new chief with respect.” Lady Martin shrilly says, her eyes flaring. 

“Darling,” Lord Argent sends a warning glance to Kate. “Please watch your tone in front of Lord Dormer.” 

“No.” Stiles holds up a hand. “She’s right. Derek-“ Stiles leans down, gently lifting the alpha’s sobbing face in his hands. “You have to go.” Stiles murmurs.

“No,” Derek moans, his eyes searching Stiles’ face desperately. “You died. They said you died. How...”

“I had to.” Stiles says softly in a voice meant only for the alpha’s ears. “Don’t you understand. They wouldn’t have stopped. Stiles had to die, in order for me to take up my great-great-great grandfather’s mission.” 

“Is that all this was to you?” Derek asks, horrified. “A ploy for power?”

“No!” Stiles exclaims. “This is not what I intended. I only wanted to be free, Derek. I never wanted to rule. I never wanted power- only my life.” Stiles looks over to Lady Martin and Lady Bridget. “But this isn’t about me– not anymore. Someone must continue what my ancestor started and only I have the blood to do it. And I won’t be alone. Lady Bridget will be coming to the Dormer keep to manage my household. You sister has agreed to station Lady Martin with me for her first few years after she finishes BWT to manage my army.” Stiles looks down softly at the alpha. “So I have to do this. I have my responsibilities.” Stiles turns to Kate. “Just as you have yours. And it’s time for you to go.”

“No!” Derek says desperately, tightly clutching the omega’s hands, looking up at Stiles from his knees. “You can’t ask me to leave you again. You can’t! I love you- don’t you understand. My world ended when you died.” Derek swallows, tears falling freely on Stiles’ lap now. “I would give it all for you. I would give up my title, my lands, my station in the Central Military- I would lay it down and never look back. Just don’t send me away from you.”

“Derek-“ Stiles says, his face pained and miserable, his voice hoarse. “Don’t you understand?” He cups Derek’s face close and whispers in the alpha’s ear. “You saved me. You gave me a life. You were a Black Wolf on a mission and I was a starving orphan in the streets. You saved me. Don’t you understand?” Stiles’ lips brushes Derek’s ear. “There are more orphans in the streets. Your work isn’t done. I could no sooner domesticate you than I could let you to hide me away from the world. You’re needed on the field, commander.” 

“Forgive me, Lord Dormer.” Lord Cutter the Elder’s voice cuts through. “The cameras are waiting- we need to deliver this statement to the international press now.”

Stiles looks up. “I’m ready.” He looks down at where Derek is still in his lap. “Just cut him out of the frame.” 

“Alright then.” Lord Cutter the Elder mutters, turning on the camera. 

“Westenra-“ Stiles starts, looking solemnly into the camera. “I address you today as Lord Stiles Dormer. I am here to publically acknowledge the individual sovereignty of the 14th tribe of Westenra. As of tonight, the Hale tribe, the tribal council, and I have come to an amicable agreement regarding the future of our great land. With my allies’ support I, the omega blood heir of John Dormer will be taking up rule of the Dormer lands and command of the Dormer armies. I have unanimous support from my friends in the tribal council. This is the future of Westenra and those who would be against us and who would threaten the security of our nation will be met with the full force of the united tribes and the Central Military.” Stiles’ voice is steady and grave. “To my new men- the brave warriors whom have today reaffirmed and sworn their blood loyalty and pledged their families to the Dormer tribe, know I am one of you. I have served in the Central Military and have fought with the Black Wolves. I will shelter, feed, and defend your families regardless of my gender. I would also like to publicly issue a statement of invitation to the orphan, abandoned, or abused omegas of Westenra. You are no longer without a family or without someone to speak for you. You are my brothers and my sisters. I have lived in the farms. I have gone on run in the slums. I have starved. I’ve been beaten and I have been repudiated. No longer will there be no sanctuary save death for those of our kind. The Dormer tribe will absorb any omegas who come to us seeking shelter within my lands and peace behind my walls. Swear your loyalty to our cause and together we will carry on John Dormer’s legacy and seek to better understand the art of peace.” Stiles nods. “Change has come to Westenra. Long live Westenra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Things have been crazy insane around this writer's life! I just wanted to thank you all again for the support. You're the best and I am so blessed to have you all! I just started a tumblr for my writing: http://loserchicwrites.tumblr.com/   
> Please follow me to behind the scenes action, and stuff about my life, my inspirations, my gay, my purse dog, and the angst. XOXO


	63. Back to Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAJsv4rEWbg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Sorry it's been so long. Lots of transitions going on right now! As I wrap up this fic (almost done but not quite there,) I'm starting a new Derek/Stiles fic entitled, Cold, that is going to be exclusively posted to my tumblr. Also I'm going to be posting peeks at my original work there. Feel free to submit questions to me there about this or any of my other work and I'll do my best to get back to you. Thanks so much for your patience. I have the best readers in the world!
> 
> http://loserchicwrites.tumblr.com/

When the camera goes off Laura and Lydia usher everyone upstairs using a mixture of threats and diplomacy- and possibly bribery, Stiles can’t be sure. Kate needs to be strong-armed away from Derek by her brother, but at last Stiles and the alpha are alone in the wine cellar together. By now Derek has detached himself from Stiles’ lap and is standing to the side of the small room, looking down. Stiles is still seated alone in his chair and he is at once reminded of a similar scene, a few weeks and a lifetime ago, when Derek had savagely beat him in the woods in front of the other recruits. That scene had started the exact same way- Stiles seated alone, Derek staring at the floor, knowing what was about to happen in the way only a seasoned warrior can and praying to all the gods and goddesses of war to let it not be so. 

“I can’t believe I gave my first televised speech with an alpha in my lap.” Stiles laughs colorlessly. Both of them are beyond even dark humor now. There is only silence.

“You’re going to do it, aren’t you?” Derek’s voice is tight, like a punch to the gut, and it’s not so much a question as it is a prophecy. “You’re going to run from me again.”

“You once told me I was under the ignorant impression that this was about you and me.” Stiles says, his voice not mocking, but sad. “Please- listen to yourself-“

“Bullshit!” Derek hisses, turning around angrily. “This is about you and me, Stiles. It’s always been about you and me.”

Stiles stands up, “No!” He argues. “You were right- this has never been about me. Or you. Or the military or the goddamn war.”

“Stiles-“

“No!” Stiles yells. “Listen to me! Goddamn! You would have given your life for mine- you almost did, remember? More than once. You say I belong to you. Just like your people belong to you and your family belongs to you. You’d make any sacrifice for me.” Stiles looks at Derek, his eyes wide. “I used to think I was alone. I used to think it was every man for himself. But you were right- nobody is alone in Westenra, not even me. And now I have people- I guess I’ve always had people. They need me- the other omegas. And I can’t turn my back on them any more than you can turn your back on yours.” 

“Tell me you don’t love me, Stiles and I swear I will do what you ask of me.” Derek says, his hands curled into fists.

There is another broken silence, and then Stiles’ voice come, high and shattered. “I can’t lie to you. You are my alpha, but-“

“You are my whole world.” Derek says forcefully. 

“Our world is broken.” Stiles says simply. “All the love in the world from a single alpha isn’t going to fix that.” 

“You would condemn me to a life without my omega?” Derek asks roughly. “You would be without me?”

“I stopped wishing things were different when I was a child, Derek.” Stiles closes his eyes and takes a slow inhale. “Let me go. Please. If you let me go now I know I will never stop loving you. I can’t guarantee that if you keep me.” Stiles opens his eyes and looks at his alpha, pained. “Please, I have brought you nothing but trouble. This way you’ll always be mine in some way.”

Derek takes an breath. “I’ll do what you ask. But only because it’s what you want- not because I agree, or will ever agree. I understand now that you were never mine to keep. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to.” Derek turns to leave. “You will never know what you do to me.”


	64. Another Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycO7jS__NVg

6 Months Later

Derek,

They told me you were headed straight off the deep end. They have told me a lot of things. The world is full of liars and with even more lies. I’ve been lied to my whole life. But not about this. This time they were right.

I don’t know this for a fact. I just assume it’s true. Maybe you didn’t go off the deep end. You can’t take a bus to hell. You went to Yemen. They wouldn’t tell me but I’m, you know, a lord now, so I found out anyways. Do you know everyone here, the council, the court, even your own family talks about you like you’re already dead? Nobody will speak ill of you, but nobody knows where you are. They look at me too closely. They speak to me too softly. They are too careful. And it kills me. Where are you, Derek? Are you in Hell? I always figured that was your home. Hell was where you lived. But we used to live there together. You’ve gone to some new hell now and left me here to rebuild Eden. 

I have a job to do. I have a purpose in life beyond eating and sleeping and shitting and killing. I pushed you away so I could do this. Without Adam, Eve still would have fallen. And she would have built the world in her image. I have been blessed by the very blood running in my veins. Don’t you understand? I have to rebuild the world after the fall. Maybe you do understand. Maybe that’s why you left Westenra. Why can’t I understand? 

I long for you, Derek. I spend my days in peace now. And yet I miss your scent and the chaos that came with it with a terrible ache that’s become this hungry, physical thing. My longing for you is my only constant companion. Not even constant work can keep it from me.

I am rebuilding The Garden here. The first thing I did was build walls around the Dormer lands. They are tall and strong with watch towers every half mile. My soldiers keep watch around the clock, looking for omega refugees, keeping evil away. Some of the refugees live in the keep with me. Others live in large manors nearby. The Dormer army works around the clock constructing large, safe homes for my tribe. Everything is simple, I am spending the Dormer fortune quickly. I would rather live like a peasant with my people in peace than horde like a dragon alone and oblivious to everyone else of my kind. It’s not my money anyways- it’s John Dormer’s and this was his life’s dream. We mostly farm here. I spend my days working in the fields, either with the vast vegetable gardens we have here, or visiting the peaceful grassy plains where cows, chickens, and sheep roam free. Lady Bridget is teaching groups of omegas to spin wool and sew clothing and linens. We bake an enormous amount of bread each morning. It is a simple life with simple food. The Dormer keep doesn’t boast the wine cellar or fine art like yours does. Anything of real value I have sold to foreign museums for grain seed or farming equipment. What need do I have of luxuries when we can have peace behind our walls? 

And there is peace here- for everyone but me, it would seem. I had this idea that if I was going to do this- if I was going to build a sanctuary, I would have to keep my own personal demon away from here in order to do it. I thought that demon was you. I was wrong. Perhaps I was lying to myself this time. My real demon is my love for you. I can barely write the word. Love. How ridiculous is that concept? But I have never felt anything at torturous as this, yet I am not hungry or injured or being threatened- so love is all I can come up with. It is terrible. I am supposed to set an example. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to be a lord. And I could be- I could be all of those things if I never knew you. If I’d never felt an alpha’s love, I know I could be everything these people need. As it is, all I can be is without you.

Can you feel it, Derek? Do you know I’m like this, miserable and yet safer than I’ve ever been in my whole life? Do you know the ways I need you in the same you knew that I was alive? Boyd comes home every month, you know. He doesn’t like to talk to me, but he does. I know you didn’t want him to go with you and the Americans into the poorest country in the middle east on a series of assassination missions, but he’s right when he says Laura would never had let him live in peace here knowing you were alone with a bunch of American soldiers in one of the worst combat zones in the world. Boyd tells me how you’ve become, Derek. That you’ve regressed back to how you were when he first met you- all basic instincts. The Americans have given you quite a kill list. Boyd tells me how you’ve killed three times as many men. How quick you are to punish lethally when you see women or children being abused. How much anger you hold towards the men of that country. He tells me how you do not speak, you only move on day by day through the dessert. He told me how even the experience American operatives are frightened of you. I know their fear, Derek. I used to fear you more than death. I see now that wanting you, loving you, longing for you, is what I’ve been afraid of- and I’ve created what I most feared. You were right. Fear has made me a slave. I hate you for that. I hate myself. 

I went to your keep the other day. I had a council meeting. Afterwards I slipped away and walked up to your quarters- I didn’t even realize where I was going or what I was doing. Before I knew it I was sitting on that couch in your room where we had sat together the night before you repudiated me. The night you begged me to stay. I laid down, curled up and tried to remember the scent of us together. It was pathetic.

I realize now you’ve been one of the only constants in my life. Was I that for you? Did you always know what I didn’t? I never thought you understood anything. Maybe I just didn’t understand you. 

Will you come home, Derek? You left to kill but everyone thinks you left to die. Is that true? Can you feel how I need you? How I can’t understand this without you? Or should I do what everyone else is doing for once in my life and go on without you. Like you’re already gone. I have a purpose, Derek, just like you. But I want you. God help me, I want you to come home. 

Nobody can know. This is another letter I’m going to burn, Derek. They don’t talk about you coming home and everyone knows I’m the reason. Christ, but this is fucked up. If I’ve killed you, Derek, I can only hope that after Eden is rebuilt something gets me too. Something gets me to you. 

Until then,  
Stiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all- New fic is up via tumblr. I'll post it here in a week or so- thanks!


	65. How Do I know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Kk6411rdY8

Derek wakes in the night somewhere in the outskirts of Sana’a. There is something in the air alien to this place, to the burned out country he’s traveled for six months. Something like iron and desolation and... home. His mind turns first to Stiles- the one thing he’s tried so hard to forget. He’s tried to burn the memory of his omega out of his mind with hunger and blood, but nothing has worked and now, miles and miles away from the omega, Derek senses something amiss. He closes his eyes, feeling the grit of the last few months on his skin, missing Stiles desperately. He would swim the ocean between them and tear down Pandora’s Wall, himself if he needed to...

Derek shakes his head quickly. This is madness. Maybe everyone is right and he’s finally snapped all together. Stiles doesn’t need him- probably never did. Not the way Derek needs him, anyways. Or the way Derek’s men need Derek. Stiles- no, Lord Dormer is busy rebuilding his tribe. He’s heard from Boyd that walls have been erected around the omega’s territory, tall and strong, made of rock and steel. Derek wonders if they are meant to keep him, personally out. Iron and desolation. The smells of a pining omega. The smells of torment.

Derek turns to his left where Body is asleep a little ways from him, the alpha’s hand in his jacket, holding a concealed knife. 

“Boyd.” Derek says softly, too quietly to wake their human team members asleep near the two Westenra mercs. 

Boyd starts in his sleep, popping up noiselessly at the sound of his alpha’s voice. “What is it?” He asks, looking around quickly. “You hear something?”

Derek turns his head towards the west. “Smell something.” He says softly, and then, “We need to go back to Westenra.”

“Now?” Boyd asks. 

“I think so.” Derek says. 

“Do I get to know why?” Boyd rubs at his eyes testily.

Derek pauses before admitting. “Something’s up with Stiles.”

Boyd groans. “Again? I thought that wasn’t our problem anymore.”

“I don’t think anybody else can fix this.” Derek says quietly. “If anyone else could I don’t think I’d know about it.”

“Should I call a jet?” Boyd yawns. 

“Yes.” Derek says. 

“The Americans are probably going to be pissed about this.” Boyd doesn’t sound like he much cares.

“They knew what they were getting into when they hired me.” Derek growls, standing up. “You call a jet and set up an evacuation plan. It’ll take a good while to get here anyways. I’ll inform the Americans.”


	66. White Flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWt9Et-ZRkw

Derek and Boyd get in to the Hale keep at nearly four in the morning. By then Derek’s been awake for nearly forty hours and everything seems a little far away. His head is pounding from the flight in and everything smells like the military jet that came to take them home. Boyd looks as if he wants the kiss the flagstones of the secret back entrance when they finally actually walk back into the large fort. 

“Go sleep.” Derek grumbles to his right hand man. “I’m sure I’ll hear it from Erica for keeping you in the middle east for the last few months.”

“Few months?” Boyd raises an eyebrow sleepily at his friend. “Derek, you’ve been away from home half a year now. Don’t you think you should go wake your sisters or something?”

“No.” Derek says. “The morning will come quickly. Laura needs to sleep. She’s hosting the council tomorrow for some kind of biannual state of the country thing. And Cora is grumpy when you wake her up. They’re used to me being away on missions.”

“They didn’t think you’d come back from this one.” Boyd mutters.

“Well... I did.” Derek sighs, looking worn. “But I don’t want everyone to get the wrong idea. Once I figure out what’s going on with Stiles I’m out of here.”

“They’ll still want to see you.” Boyd says.

“All I want right now is a shower.” Derek grumbles. 

He drops his gear in his own weapons room and leaves a tired Boyd at the bottom of his private staircase. Derek climbs the narrow flight of spiral stairs wearily, inhaling deeply. He didn’t think he’d be here again either, truth be told, and he’s missed the scent of home. He’d left his rooms barren before he’d gone to the middle east. He’d burned any private papers and left the important ones in the vault where Laura could access them after his death. Among the papers were instructions for Cora to divide his personal processions among his men as she saw fit, but his weapons were to go to Boyd. He had left his personal wealth and his signet ring to Stiles in a move that mimicked generally what a widow would receive after the death of the omega’s alpha. However, as Derek was still here, still alive despite six months in a country where everything from the climate to the locals wanted to kill you, so none of this had been revealed yet.

The keep smells good- better than good even. It smells better than Derek remembers. He swears as he pushes open the ornately carved door behind a tapestry in his personal chambers that he can smell the beautiful, perfect scent of Stiles still lingering in the air here. Stiles, no doubt, as been to the Hale keep on tribal business several times since Derek’s been away. Funny how every sense, ever part of Derek is so finely tuned to the omega that Derek could probably track Stiles’ every move in the large house. Derek sighs, feeling the deep ache in his stomach swell with urgency. He can’t help it- he really can’t. Years in the service and Derek doesn’t have the discipline to quell the anxiety he has over the omega. It’s unnatural to ask an alpha to ignore his feelings for his omega. But Stiles doesn’t seem himself as Derek’s and Stiles sees Derek as nothing more than a cage. 

Derek can feel his mouth water as the smell of the omega only intensifies as he walks back into his bedroom. The alpha pulls off his shirt as he comes through the door. He and Boyd had showered at one of the bases prior to taking off in the jet, and Derek is in civilian clothes, but he still can’t help but feel grimy from a day and a half in a jet. He throws his shirt into a laundry hamper and catches something out of the corner of his eye. Derek turns slowly. His bed, large and dark, draped in velvet curtains was perfectly made when he’d left. There’s something burrowed under the heavy blankets now, cocooned in Derek’s sheets. That something is breathing fitfully and smells incredible. 

Derek is over to the side of his bed and yanking back the blankets in the dark in one fast movement. Stiles dressed in linen blinks up at him in the dark room. Derek hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. The omega looks at him as if in a dream and Derek can’t help himself- doesn’t even think. He’s down and crushing the omega to his chest in half a second, part of his brain convinced he died over seas and this is some kind of bizarre heaven he’s done nothing to deserve. Stiles makes as soft cry of surprise, but doesn’t fight him and before Derek knows it, he’s nosing under Stiles’ neck, clutching the smaller man tightly, both of them hidden under Derek’s blankets.

“You’re here.” Stiles breathes into Derek’s ear. “You’re home.”

“You’re in my bed.” Derek says, equally disbelieving, his hand stroking Stiles’ back and hair, looking into the omega’s face even though it’s too dark to see much. 

“I’m sorry.” Stiles says laying his head on Derek’s chest. 

“Only apologize if you’re going to leave.” Derek murmurs, inhaling Stiles’ scent like he’s starved for it. “And don’t leave. God- Stiles... just don’t go this time.” He says this last part desperately, crushing the omega to him.

“You’re alive.” Stiles says softly. “They said you wouldn’t come home.”

“Are you okay?” Derek asks urgently, remembering his gut instinct, the reason why he’d come home in the first place. “Are you hurt? Are your lands okay?”

“Everything is fine.” Stiles says softly, absently reaching out to touch Derek’s lips. “I just... I...” He looks up at Derek. “I needed you to come home.”

“I know.” Derek breathes, kissing Stiles’ brow. “I know...”

“Wait-“ Stile eyes him suspiciously. “How did you know?”

“I said I’d always be there for you.” Derek says simply. “You needed me so I’m here.”

“Are you going to leave again?” Stiles asks against Derek’s neck. 

“That depends.” Derek says, feeling the heaviness in his chest again for the first time since seeing Stiles there in his bed. 

“On what?” Stiles asks.

“If you’re going to keep yourself away again.” Derek says quietly, swallowing. “Because I don’t think I can go back to not having this. You don’t know how it is for me. You might not want me to see you as an omega- or my omega, but I am an alpha, Stiles. I can’t help it. And I can’t help needing you. I can’t help wanting you all the time and being crazy because I don’t know if you’re eating or where you’re sleeping or if you’re safe. “ Derek feels his eyes grow wet as he holds Stiles close to him, warm and safe under his blankets, surrounded by the scent of them together. “I’m not saying you should change anything about your life. I know you have things to do. I know you have plans and dreams, and I don’t want you to stop any of that. I don’t want you to be different.” Derek looks down into Stiles’ eyes and touches his omega’s cheek gently. “But I don’t want to be without you. So if you still think- if you still know you want to live without me, then yes, I have to leave again.” 

Stiles swallows too and lays his head back down on Derek’s chest, silent, like a deadweight. “I should tell you to go.” Stiles whispers. “I should do this alone. I shouldn’t be here.” 

“I know.” Derek says, miserable. 

“I’m free.” Stiles says softly. “I don’t need you.” 

“I know.” Derek repeats, tears running down his face silently. 

“I’ve never needed you.” Stiles says. “You’re not safe. You’re not.” Derek can feel Stiles shaking his head. “Being with you is... insanity. What have you ever brought me other than humiliation and anger and a few black eyes?” Derek shuts his eyes tightly, wincing. “You’re a patriarchal idiot.” Stiles continues. “Your policy decisions are on par with a neanderthals'. You’ve never met something, including me by the way, you haven’t tried to kill. You represent everything I’m fighting against and have fought against my entire life.” Derek feels Stiles ball his fists up against him, and then, just as suddenly, all the tension drains out of the omega. “Why can’t I just let you go?” Stiles’ voice is broken, haunted. “What is wrong with me?” The omega looks up at Derek. “Don’t leave. Don’t marry Kate. Don’t go off on some kind of suicide mission. I don’t understand it. I hate it. But I’m miserable fighting myself all the time and I’m always with you, even when you’re far away so you might as well be here. With me.” 

“I can’t stay if you’re just going to keep pushing me away.” Derek says. “I can’t take it. It’s killing me. If we do this, we can’t just be allies or comrades or whatever we’ve been doing. I need you with me as my mate.” 

“I know.” Stiles says quietly. “I think I need you that way too.” 

“You do?” Derek asks, surprised. 

Stiles frowns, before admitting lowly. “I think... I think I’ve been pining for you.”

Derek would have smiled if he wasn’t so shocked. “You have?” He asks. 

“I’m sort of in your bed, idiot.” Stiles grumbles. 

“Yeah.” Derek’s voice is full of wonder. “You are.”

“I think I might love you.” Stiles says, hesitant, as if the words are alien in his mouth. 

“I know I love you.” Derek says. “You don’t have to love me back, just don’t ask me to leave. Just stay with me.” 

“I don’t know a lot about love, Derek.” Stiles says quietly. “Or a lot about how this is going to work. But I’ve tried being without you in every way I can think of and it’s not working. So... I guess this is it. I guess that’s what love is.” 

“We don’t have to figure it out right now.” Derek says. “If you’ll stay with me, I know it’ll be okay.” He leans down and kisses Stiles’ brow. “Just let me stay with you. I have always been yours. Just let me be yours.”

“Okay, Derek.” Stiles sighs, nosing sleepily at the alpha’s neck. “I surrender. Let’s do this.”

Derek laughs softly, pressing Stiles closer. “I surrendered to you years ago.” He whispers. “I love you, Stiles.”


	67. The Dawn

Stiles wakes up a few hours later to something wet and tickling mouthing at his sensitive omega neck. He shifts slightly feeling the pleasure of the sensations all down his spine. Derek is curled around him, both of the soldiers strong arms wrapped around the omega as if he’s afraid Stiles will disappear if he doesn’t hold on tightly enough. Derek is licking and nibbling at Stiles’ throat and really, Stiles isn’t even sure what to make of that sensation. It kind of feels like all of his bones are melting at once and at the same time there’s a heated tension slowly building up his spine. Out of sheer reflex at the unfamiliar feelings, Stiles pushes Derek away only to have the sleeping alpha growl deeply in his throat and scrape his teeth against Stiles’ newly awakened skin. Holy mother of hot messes- Derek needs to wake up before he bites Stiles. 

“Derek?” Stiles says tentatively. “Hey- asshole, wake up.”

“Hmmm...” Derek rumbles low in his throat, pulling Stiles closer until the omega’s ass if flush against something hard and insistent in Derek’s pants. 

“Wake up!” Stiles growls again, squirming forwards. 

Derek easily flips Stiles until the omega is facing him, pressed against the alpha’s bare chest. Only then does Derek sleepily open his eyes. Derek’s whole face is seemingly transformed into a look of wonder and softness as he stares down at Stiles in the yellow early morning light. 

“Hey.” He says softly.

“Hi.” Stiles says back, arching an eyebrow. “You want to tell me what was going on there?” 

Derek actually blushes a little and Stiles thinks it’s a very weird look on Lord Commander Hale. “I can’t help it.” Derek confesses, his cheeks flushed. “I’m an alpha and you’re my omega and we’re not... we haven’t...” Derek pauses, trying to find the right words. “We’re not bonded in the... right way yet.”

“And this has exactly what to do with you sleep slobbering all over me?” Stiles is flushing too but he makes up for it with an overly annoyed voice.

Derek cringes, muttering to himself. “What kind of sex ed do they teach you in the farms?”

“Mostly to lay back and think fertile thoughts.” Stiles says. “But that’s still better than whatever they teach Black Wolves about mating.”

“I’m an alpha.” Derek says softly. “I know what’s right. And it really kind of bothers me in that way that we haven’t, you know... mated. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch. It doesn’t feel... safe to me. Like anyone could touch you right now and there isn’t anything I could do about it. It makes me really uneasy.” 

“Do you have any idea how idiotic that sounds?” Stiles says through his blushing. “We’re in your bed and you’re like this close to smothering me. Nobody is going to touch me except you.” 

Derek shrugs looking a little helpless. “Westenra is a dangerous place. I’ve been taught that if you can’t protect it, you don’t deserve it.”

“It sounds like we’ve both been given some shitty information.” Stiles rolls his eyes, but he burrows he head against Derek’s chest. “I’m glad you’re here.” He admits. “I needed you.”

“I always need you.” Derek says plainly, and then, “You have no idea how much I want to bite you right now.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes tight, unsure of how to feel about that. Something is bubbling up inside him, something a lot like happiness and belonging and safety and he doesn’t think he can trust it. But at the same time he wants... oh god, he wants Derek to bite him. 

“Will you?” He whispers against Derek’s skin, his eyes still squeezed tightly closed. 

He feels Derek gently lifting his chin up. “Open your eyes, Stiles.” The alpha gently commands. 

Stiles does, reluctantly. Inwardly terrified at what he might see in Derek’s face. When he does open his eyes all he sees there is pure acceptance and something akin to worship. 

“Ask me again.” Derek says gently. 

“Will you bite me?” Stiles asks breathlessly, looking up into the face of the alpha who he’s known for years, feeling surreal at this moment. 

Derek pauses for a moment, just looking down at Stiles. “Do you trust me?” He finally says.

“Yeah.” Stiles admits. “I do.”

“I love you.” Derek says softly. “I’ve always loved you and I always will love you. I’m sure about this. Are you?”

“All I know,” Stiles says honestly. “Is that I can’t do this without you. So please, Derek, bite me. I know it’s the right thing. I don’t know what we’re going to do after this, but this feels like the most important thing to figure out right now.”

“I can do anything, be anything if I have you.” Derek says, leaning in close, whispering the words against Stiles’ lips. 

“It’s weird.” Stiles says dreamily. “I feel the same way.”


	68. The Cat-less Bag

It is the most surreal feeling in the world, laying in bare in Derek’s arms, in the Hale keep, the early sun filtering through the high glass windows of the alpha’s chambers, meek and pale, highlighting the light sheen of sweat covering their skin. Derek’s face is buried in Stiles neck, his large arms locked around the omega’s naked form. They can feel each other’s breath- every inhale. Their shared scent, no longer two separate entities, but one melodic aroma is infused in the air and smeared on the white sheets of their nest. They had made love in the darkness, touching and kissing, meeting each other’s bodies in this new kind of violence under the cover of night. It is morning now. Derek had knotted him, flushed and moaning harshly in his ear as the alpha bit down, hard, on his neck just as the sun had begun to rise, leaving them exposed to the day.

It is morning now. Everything has changed. Stiles is still bleeding, his head still reeling, his body just beginning to unclench from his orgasm. The room and his life are beginning to come back into focus- and Lord Dormer with it. He is starting to re-experience anxiety. Last night, seeing Derek- no, seeing his alpha after being certain in his own isolated, unspoken, half-crazed way that he had sent his alpha off to die alone, Stiles had felt nothing more than a starving desperation. He’d needed Derek, needed the alpha as close to him as he knew how to be, needed Derek in ways Stiles could not articulate, couldn’t understand. Everything had been hunger and longing and instinct. Now, because of that, because of Stiles, he and Derek were joined. They were mated. There was no going back. They had left the safe house sometime during the night. You can’t hide a mating scar and you can’t hide a mate. There will be no playing dead. There is nowhere to run. Derek is still connected to him, still nosing at his own bite mark and making incoherent noises of satisfaction and warmth. Only Stiles lays awake to the world, tense and sore- his body aching and covered in new kinds of bruises, his eyes open and his mind full. 

There is noise like a shot blast and Stiles jumps instinctively, trying to fly up and away. Derek’s arms don’t allow for any movement and the alpha seems too blissed out to do anything much but growl lazily and pull Stiles back to his chest. Cora Hale, fresh faced and grinning is running into the room, calling out wildly.

“Derek! You’re home! I can’t believe-“ The curly headed young woman skids to a halt, shocked in front of the bed. Stiles turns the color of pickled beets and tries desperately to pull away from Derek to no avail. The omega settles on looking down awkwardly and trying to pull more of the blankets up around their naked bodies. “Whoa!” Cora almost screams. “What is happening here?!”

Stiles groans and smacks his face down on the mattress. 

“Stiles! Is that you?!” Cora takes a step closer in her shock. She seems to instantly regret it. “Wow.” She sniffs the air. “Did you- wait! Are you? Oh my God!” 

“Derek!” Stiles hisses, elbowing the alpha sharply. Derek ignores them both and continues nosing at his neck, in some kind of post-mating unhelpful stupor. There are more footsteps, more sounds from the hall. This cannot be happening.

“Derek!” Kate steps into the room in a blue day dress, Laura Hale stepping briskly through the door at her side. Super. 

“Kate. No. Wait. Don’t come in here.” Cora calls sarcastically. 

“Stiles?” Lady Hale stares down at Stiles and Derek. Stiles tries to hide his face and fails. “What...”

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” Kate positively shrieks at the bed, her face turning white with rage. “What are you doing with my mate, you common whore? Get the hell out of here, right now! Derek! When did you get back? What are you doing with that omega bitch?!” 

“He’s not your mate, Lady Argent.” Laura says, still looking shocked and stunned.

“Yeah.” Cora agrees, seemingly over her shock. “I know you don’t have a soul, but do you have eyes?” 

“How could you do this to me?” Kate wails, her eyes flashing. “How could you do this to us? And for what?! Some gutter whore? An orphaned nobody!” 

“Derek!” Stiles jabs the alpha again, kind of just wanting to die. “You want to weigh in here?”

The alpha opens one sleepy eye and raises his head a fraction of an inch. “Go. Away. Everyone.” He mutters and returns to mouthing at Stiles’ neck. 

“Now is not the time, asshole!” Stiles barks over his shoulder at his useless mate, trying to wrench himself away from the alpha and failing. 

Boyd and Lydia tumble into the room, looking fertilely around with their guns drawn. They both stop short in front of the bed, gaping.

“We heard screaming...” Lydia says, her eyes as wide as fried eggs. “What the hell?” 

“Boyd! Do something! He’s lost his mind!” Kate screams, pointing at Derek. 

“Why don’t you have a lock on your door, you idiot?” Stiles seethes at Derek. “By all means, call in the entire castle. Oh my god.” 

“Please tell me you’re not...” Boyd is looking slightly to the left of Stiles’ shoulder.

“They totally are.” Cora says gleefully, a giant smile on her face. 

“Can we maybe, I don’t know... TALK ABOUT THIS LATER?!” Stiles asks from his place pinned on the bed. “Derek isn’t up to chatting right now.” 

“Oh, he’s up alright.” Cora says.

“Oh my God.” Lydia hides her face in one hand. 

“Stiles is right.” Laura says, seeming to blink out of her stupor. “We should um... we should go.”

“Thank you!” Stiles is completely exasperated. “Christ on a cracker!” 

“Oh no!” Kate yells. “Derek get off of that thing right now! We’re getting this annulled.” She seethes at Stiles. “He repudiated you! He doesn’t want you! How dare you try to come in and seduce my mate like this?”

“Eh?” Stiles stares at her and blinks. “I... I... I can’t even form a sentence about what you just said....” He elbows Derek again, trying to wriggle away. “You want to take that one, Derek? Anytime now...”

But Lydia is already turning, hair flying around, seemingly in tandem with Laura. “Don’t talk to Lord Dormer like that! Didn’t anyone teach you manners?!”

“Apparently nobody taught anyone in this room manners.” Stiles mutters lowly. 

“My brother has the right of rubrum jus!” Laura says icily. “He can take any omega he pleases as his mate and he’s only ever wanted one- that one.” She points towards the bed. “I warned you, Kate. Don’t say I didn’t tell you he would never love you. I told you the night you pushed my tribe into this sham of an engagement Derek would have no one but Stiles.” She stares down at Kate imperiously. “He is a dormer omega- the only one I ever thought fit to be my brother’s partner. It was always laughable to me the council thought you’d ever be a suitable replacement.” 

“Shut up, all of you.” Stiles groans. “Can you talk politics some other time? We have a council meeting in four hours. Can’t this wait until then?”

Lydia completely ignores him. “I told you, Kate. Keep your claws away from the Black Wolves. This is one war you can’t win.”

“Derek get them out of here!” Stiles groans into the sheets.

“Mmm?” Derek looks up, scenting his omega’s distress. 

“Your family and your ex are in our bedroom and they’re driving me crazy.” Stiles says. 

“That omega is nothing! He’s nobody!” Kate says, indicating to Stiles, nearly hysterical. She picks up a vase from an end table and hurls it at the wall. “My brother will never stand for this! You will regret this, Laura! We have a contract! You know I was meant to be the next Lady Hale!”

Derek raises his head up fully this time, glaring at the room at large, a low throaty, reverberating growl emulating from his throat. Everyone stares him. 

“Anyone who doesn’t want to witness round two- get away from my omega right now.” Derek snarls out, gather Stiles into his arms. Derek bares his teeth, flashing them menacingly and snarling. 

“So we’ll see you at the meeting, Stiles.” Laura says, pointedly looking down and away, ushering the group out. “Or not... whatever. Take your time.” She shuts the door behind them quickly and Stiles hears the lock turn. 

The omega slumps back into the bed, exhausted. “You are such an idiot.” Stiles sighs. 

“I love you.” Derek mutters around Stiles’ neck.


	69. Epilogue: Victory

Oprah sits on a decorative bench in a sunny courtyard covered in large flowering vines and lush greenery. Behind her, rows of sweet flowerbeds are flowing with color and life. A broad table of reclaimed wood sits in front of her covered in hand-thrown pottery. Flowers and fresh vegetables are proudly displayed on a runner of home spun cloth, hand embroidered and edged with crocheted lace. In the background are several large easels, holding oil paintings, water colors, and ink wash portraits. In the background a young boy with long dark hair, on the cusp of manhood chases after two smaller children- a boy and a girl, while a pygmy goat runs beside them, bleating happily in the fresh air. Beside the venerable television host sits Stiles and Derek on another bench. Both are smiling easily, Stiles in a white linen suit, Derek’s Hale Tribe ring on his finger, along with several jeweled insignias on his lapel that signal his authority as a tribal chief and the commander of an army. Derek wears a fresh white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, displaying powerful, tan forearms. His shirt is open at the neck, but there is a band around his upper arm with the symbols of the Black Wolves and the Dormer Army embroidered on it. Both men wear leather sandals and look relaxed in the face of this outsider from America. 

Oprah looks at the camera and says, “I can’t believe it has already been fifteen years since I’ve last seen these two. Last time, we met in America and I was the only outside media source granted an interview with the elusive, newly engaged couple. The rare televised look at Westenra’s ruling class rocked the world- fascinating the millions of viewers with the story of the alpha nobleman and the orphaned omega soldier’s arranged courtship and impending marriage. Since we last spoke, there has been no shortage of controversy and political intrigue for what has now become the world’s most recognizable Westenra couple. Today, I sit with Stiles and Derek for the first time in their home- Dormer Keep. Stiles has granted our cameras unprecedented access into his country, his territories, and to his family.” She turns back to the couple, smiling. “Stiles, Derek- thank you so much for this opportunity. I can honestly say I never thought I’d see the day when American cameras would be allowed into Westenra, but then, so much has changed in the past fifteen years.” 

Derek looks to his omega fondly, and Stiles is the first to speak. “We’re happy to have you here, Oprah.” He smiles, well practiced at speaking publicly. “In a lot of ways I feel like this is long over-due. Derek and I are private people, but we talked about it, and we have nothing to hide from the world. We’re very happy, and we wanted to share that with people.” 

“Now, you’ll notice that I didn’t mention either of your titles in the opening.” Oprah says. “That wasn’t meant to be disrespectful, but I understand there has been some changes in title since the last time we met.”

“Yes,” Derek nods. “That may be something of an understatement.” Stiles laughs and Derek’s eyes light up at the sound.

“Stiles, you are now the first ruling omega chief in Westenra in more than a century- is that right?” Oprah says. “Explain to the rest of us how that came about.”

“As I’m sure people know,” Stiles starts. “I was born an orphan. I didn’t have a family and I went through the system like all orphaned or abandoned omegas. It wasn’t until after I had joined the army and was in Black Wolves training that scientists here uncovered a genetic link between me and a tribe that was thought to have died out. I had some allies in our tribal council who wished to restore me and restore the Dormer Tribe and the rest is history I guess.” He laughs. 

“That is truly astounding.” Oprah says. “The restoration of your tribe, the Dormer Tribe, set off something of a social revolution in Westenra, now known as The Omega Spring. Experts all over the globe now study it as an example of a turning point in a society. Did you know you were going to have this sort of huge effect when you came to power?”

“No.” Stiles says, shaking his head vehemently. “That was never my intent. I think it’s a gross mis-characterization of my life when people say, ‘I set out to be a revolutionary,’ or whatever. I didn’t join the Central Military when I was a teenager because I was trying to overthrow alpha rule or any sort of nonsense like that. I was an omega who didn’t like the direction his life was going. I, personally, didn’t want anyone telling me what to do or where to go. I didn’t want to live like a slave. Joining the Black Wolves at that time seemed like the only option I had to possibly make a change in my own life. When I took charge of the Dormer territories, I suddenly had land and an army and some resources. I opened my home to the other omegas who didn’t have anywhere to go but the farms, the vulnerable people who were like me. I didn’t do it because I was trying to change some dynamic in our society. I did it because I didn’t like the way I grew up and I wanted other omegas to have choices too. Everything that’s come after that has been sort of a happy accident. I couldn’t have predicted what giving a whole population of people who had been essentially imprisoned because of their biology, because of the way they were born, another choice would do or how it would change the rest of the country.”

“What the Dormer tribe has done is really incredible.” Derek says. “In our lands, in the Dormer territories, we have things that I don’t think Westenra could have had without what Stiles did. We have schools here, we have art, we have omegas who build things and study things. We have returned to agriculture and farming. Before the Dormer tribe resurfaced, Westenra’s only focus was war and fighting- the people here aren’t interested in that.”

“I’m pleased that our children have more things to do and study now than just violence.” Stiles says. “When we were growing up, that’s all Derek and I knew. Now we have betas and alphas and other omegas who come from the other tribes to study here.” 

“The country is still heavily militarized, but the need for constant armed presence in nowhere near as dire now.” Derek notes. “Most of the alphas here do ultimately have careers in the CM, but we export things now too. There are less marauding groups causing violent outbreaks in the country. There is less poverty all around. It’s been good for the stability of the nation on a whole.”

“The Dormer omegas are renowned craftsmen and artisans.” Oprah says to the camera. She waves to the artwork behind them. “Galleries around the globe now display the work of Westenra artists and many celebrities and fashion icons have worn gowns and jewelry that have been made right here in the Dormer territories.” She turns back to the couple. “Now, on a personal note- Derek, I have to talk to you about something.”

“Uh-oh.” Stiles smirks, laughing. 

“I’m not sure you were entirely truthful with me the last time we spoke.” Oprah goes into voice-over as pictures from fifteen years ago appear on the screen. “At the time of my first interview with the Westenra royal couple, fifteen years ago, Lord Dormer, then just a foot soldier training with the Central Military’s exclusive Black Wolves, was in an arranged engagement with Lord Hale. We spoke about their impending marriage and their unusual love story which began when they were both just children. Less than a week later, Lady Laura Hale, Derek’s older sister and the ruling chieftess of the Hale tribe, publicly announced the couples’ split. The news was even more shocking when it was announced at the same time that Derek was now engaged to noblewoman, Lady Kate Argent, a beta from one of the other noble families of Westenra. Then, just as suddenly almost seven months after Stiles and Derek’s engagement was called off, it was announced to the world that the two had mated secretly and were officially planning to get married again.” Oprah turns back to Derek. “I can honestly say I was shocked when I heard that- about the initial split, I mean. From what I could tell during our meeting, all those years ago you seemed very much in love with Stiles. Did you know at that time, when we last spoke, that you were going to repudiate Stiles and call off your engagement?” 

Derek’s eyes grow darker and he looks solemn. “ Yes.” He admits. “I did. But that’s not to say you were wrong or I was pretending or anything. During the last interview we did, I was- and still am, very much in love with Stiles. I loved him since the day I met him and that never changed. That will never change.” He looks over at Stiles and winds his fingers with his husband’s. Stiles looks down with a quiet smile, his face reflective and pensive. 

“I have always maintained that I saw that you had real love for your fiancé when I met you.” Oprah says, looking carefully at Derek. “I’ve wanted to ask you all these years, if you really did love Stiles as much as you say you do, why did you call the marriage off? Why did you become engaged to another person?” 

Derek takes a deep breath and glances at Stiles before answering. “We were young. We were both still learning about each other-“

“I didn’t want to get married.” Stiles speaks up, plainly.

“You didn’t want to get married.” Oprah’s eyebrows shoot up as she looks at the omega lord. 

“No.” Stiles shakes his head. “At the time there was a lot going on around us- a lot going on in Westenra. It wasn’t the right time for us to be together. At the time I thought I’d never want to be mated.” He looks sideways at Derek. “I think I made that pretty clear.”

“Yeah.” Derek agrees with a small, woeful smile. “You did.”

“So you called the wedding off?” Oprah asks Stiles.

“No.” Stiles says. “I’m an omega and at that time omegas- and I, in particular, was not in any position to call off the engagement. Now, of course, the Dormer omegas have protection against arranged marriages and the right of divorce. They have representation in child custody hearings and everything, and we’re working on getting those rights extended to the omegas of other tribes, but at the time I didn’t have that kind of power. But, I take responsibility for the engagement ending- Derek wouldn’t have done that on his own.” 

Oprah looks expectantly at Derek. 

“No.” Derek confirms, squeezing Stiles’ hand. “I never would have done that if I didn’t think that is what he wanted.” He swallows, looking down and his and Stiles’ interlinked hands. “It killed me to do it. And I have a lot of regrets about the way the whole thing happened. I think that period in my life was the darkest one I’ve ever experienced. I wish, to this day it could have happened differently.”

“How do you wish it would have happened?” Oprah asks intently. 

Derek looks thoughtful. “I wish we, and by we I mean me and my family, wouldn’t have just jumped into another engagement. I wish I had never agreed to become betrothed to Lady Argent. There was a lot of pressure coming at us, at the time, from the council and from the other noble families for me to mate and produce heirs, but I should have shut it all down. I should have taken a step back.” He takes a breath, as if the memories are a cold wind. “I was... devastated after breaking off my engagement to Stiles. I honestly thought my life was over. I just wasn’t thinking clearly and when things started picking up speed, I couldn’t control them the way I should have.” Stiles covers Derek’s hand with his other hand, both of the omega’s touching the alpha’s comfortingly. 

“It was a turbulent time.” Stiles notes. “Derek and I weren’t really communicating. There was... a lot left unsaid. All of a sudden I was in charge of whole tribe- something I never thought would happen, and at the time I didn’t know which of the noble families- if any, would support me. I felt, at the time, that my loyalty should be to the omegas first.”

“So what changed?” Oprah asks, smiling. “Because things obviously did- and fast. The two of you were mated secretly after seven months.”

Stiles almost falls off the bench as he cracks up. Derek smiles broadly. 

“It was... not really a secret.” Stiles says, trying to regain composure. “I mean, if it was, it only stayed that way for like thirty seconds. Derek’s family and my tribe found out almost immediately.” 

Derek smiles at his mate teasingly, “It’s good to see you can laugh about this now.” He turns to Oprah. “He was not too happy about it at the time. I think we both would have appreciated a little more time to ease our families into it.” He winces at the memory. 

“So even your families were surprised?” Oprah asks. “Because I can remember it being something of a shock, or dare I say, scandal at the time.” 

“We did not... do that gracefully.” Derek nods. “At the time I wasn’t too concerned with how it would effect other people. I just knew I had to be with him.” 

“I was most concerned with how it would effect my tribe, the other omegas.” Stiles says, sobering. “Here I was, the new leader of this group of people- we had omega refugees streaming in from all over the country, from the state-run farms, from bad marriages, from out of hiding, everywhere, and I had taken an alpha mate, a high ranking officer of the Central Military, no less, without consulting really, anyone. I had become this image, this poster child for omega freedom and independence, and here I was, mated to an alpha who had started our relationship in the most backward, archaic way ever. I had a lot of responsibilities and I was most terrified of letting people down. I didn’t want people to think I was going to abandon them or abandon my goals for the Dormer tribe just because I had a husband.” 

“The first couple years were hard.” Derek says. “I think that’s why we haven’t really talked to the media until now. Stiles kept a pretty tight leash on me for a long time.” He smiles. “He didn’t want me talking to the Dormer tribe for the longest time. It was an uphill battle to even get us to a place where I could live on the Dormer lands with him, full time.” 

“Really?” Oprah says. “You didn’t want your husband living with you?” She looks incredulously at Stiles. 

Stiles smiles, shrugging. “We weren’t married at that time- we were just mated. I didn’t want the tribe to think that Derek would be taking over as chief or making any decisions about their lives. A lot of the omegas who came to us were, and still are mistrustful of Alphas and the Central Military. People were looking to me for sanctuary, for protection from all of that. I had my priorities at the time and I didn’t feel like my personal life could be one of them.”

“That must have been hard.” Oprah says, looking at Derek.

“It was incredibly frustrating.” Derek says. “But I’m not going to say Stiles didn’t have legitimate reasons to want to keep us separate from his rule. I love Stiles and I knew he had things to do here, at the keep, with the people. But I was really glad when we were able to live together like a normal couple. I did not like living apart.” 

Stiles laughs a little. “He was going a bit mental, really. It wasn’t sustainable, and I knew that.” 

“After three years together, the tribal council of Westenra finally got its wish and the whole country celebrated as Stiles had the couples’ first child, an omega son named Darcy Leopold. In the following years, they would add two more children to complete their family- an alpha daughter named Lace Bernadette, and alpha son, Dietrich John.” She turns back to the couple, waving towards the children playing in the yard behind them. “They’re beautiful.” 

“Happiest day of my life was when my son was born.” Derek says, smiling wistfully. 

“Mine too, but only because it finally shut everyone up.” Stiles laughs. 

Oprah smiles. “Your eldest son, Darcy, is an omega.” 

“He’s a Dormer omega.” Derek corrects. “He’s funny and creative and so smart-“

“He is trouble.” Stiles interrupts. “That one could escape Alcatraz if he felt like it. He requires his own platoon of security.” 

“Well,” Derek shrugs. “You reap what you sow.” 

“The other two are perfectly content to just sit around the keep and play with the animals or whatever. Darcy took one of Derek’s horses for a joyride when he was seven. Nobody could find him for like an hour.”

“He takes after his mother.” Derek smirks. 

“He’s twelve now, right?” Oprah notes.

“Correct.” Stiles says. 

“He’s the same age Stiles was when you started courting him.” Oprah says to Derek. “Any suitors in the wings?”

“Lady Lydia Martin’s son, Lord Jael tried to declare his intent earlier this year, but Stiles said, no, so... no.” Derek laughs. “Hasn’t stopped the poor kid from trying though.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “My kids are normal kids.” He shrugs. “Trust me, I instilled a strong belief in cooties early in these kids. They aren’t going to be involved in that mess right now. The Martin menace can come talk to me after Darcy’s voice stops cracking.” 

“A lot of changes here in Westenra.” Oprah says. “The future is looking bright. Thank you both for talking with me today.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Graphics for War Crimes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3802834) by [Vestal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vestal/pseuds/Vestal)
  * [War Crimes Trailer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3980092) by [ConsiderMeDivine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsiderMeDivine/pseuds/ConsiderMeDivine)




End file.
